A Good Place to Die
by Valairy Scot
Summary: Exhausted after over a year of fighting in the Clone Wars, our heroes are sent on another mission to a vacation paradise planet. This mission brings danger and the aftereffects may very well shatter the deepening friendship between Master and Padawan. If
1. Chapter 1

Ch1Good

Humbling. Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi always found it humbling to drop out of hyperspace, a spark of life amongst the vastness of space, held within infinity's palm. Not a black void, not to a Jedi, but still a deep well of silence and darkness, punctuated by the occasional jewels that were planets, swirls of color that were nebulae, or the light of suns.

It was a reminder of the power and presence of the Force that guided his life. It was also one of the few moments when he didn't mind flying: his distaste for flying came from both dodging fire from those who would prefer to see him disintegrate in mid-air and hanging on for dear life if his padawan, Anakin Skywalker was piloting. Anakin's skills took him way to the edge of control – too near for his master's liking, and in his firm belief, often beyond.

As the Republic's small transport oriented itself and swung about, the planet slid into sight. From this altitude they could see the division between night and day – the lighter side showing shades of blue gray, splashes of crimson and yellow, leading up to areas of such dazzling light that the ship's transparisteel panel darkened.

As the ship changed angle, the blinding blur resolved into focus – snow fields atop mountain peaks, blinding brightness with the sun at a certain angle. As planet dawn came into sight, snow fields at the juncture of night and day flamed red and pink below them.

Nature was playing a symphony for them; the chords glorious combinations of vivid colors rather than composed of notes – with instruments made of light, not sound. Obi-Wan was entranced. After some of the various planets the Jedi had been on recently, this was a treat for the senses, a gift of the Force. It was joy made visible.

Only the blue-grey eyes of the Jedi reflected his pleasure at the sight, his total and inner contentment. He stood in quiet repose, little hint of his delight in his voice or posture.

"Pretty planet," Obi-Wan remarked with a sideways glance at his padawan, who was staring gloomily through the transparisteel panel of their small transport. He chuckled at the resigned shrug that the young man gave, thinking at least that this attitude was a distinct improvement over the brooding that had all but enveloped the young Jedi within a shroud of anger and disappointment during most of their journey.

"You don't find the sight of those snow capped peaks and meadows refreshing, after some of those planets we've been on lately?" The twinkle in his eye grew more pronounced. At the lack of response, he shook his head and returned his gaze to the planet below.

It had been a tough year and then some, fighting a war that was no closer to being won than when it started.

A time of too much battle, too much death and too much suffering. A time of sound that no longer had the harsh urgency it had once had - cries of the wounded were no longer a shock to the ears.

A time of silence; the silence of the dead. Sound and silence that no longer struck numbing blows to heart and mind as if a dagger made of ice was thrust into them and cruelly twisted, sound as well as its absence that struck more than ears.

A time of bone weary exhaustion that leached the life from them, making them feeler older than mere age should.

Obi-Wan Kenobi could have hardened under it; turned harsh and silent under war's assault. But as always, when he wanted to deaden the horror surrounding him, distance himself from the pain of unceasing death and destruction, he turned to the Force. For he wanted to feel; keep his compassion alive, bathe in the relief that the Force granted him. It was his choice: to keep feeling, to try to find joy in small moments, and to remember how to laugh.

It was his need to worry about and watch over his padawan. While Obi-Wan softened under war, Anakin hardened. His sharp blue eyes grew ever more hooded, his silences brooding. He rarely smiled.

Only in actual battle did he seem to come alive: baring his teeth in smiles that rarely reached his eyes, calm and focused, and fierce with determination to win this battle, only to be, yet again, disappointed that each victory failed to bring an end to the war.

After the culmination of their last campaign neither of them was happy to be on another mission. Obi-Wan, ever pragmatic, just sighed and prepared to move on, shrouding himself in his calm and accepting Jedi demeanor while his Padawan, unable to successfully release his frustration, brooded.

With the successful conclusion of their last campaign, the two Jedi had hoped that the latest communication from the Jedi Temple had been permission to take a Rest and Recuperation leave. It had been, instead, a request to take off on another mission. They were available, they were the team chosen, and without even an opportunity for a quick trip home, let alone leave, they found themselves en route to Skore.

Obi-Wan had taken the news with a weary shrug, though he was no happier than his conspicuously unhappy padawan. Anakin had not taken it well, glowering at his master when he relayed the request, as if he as the bearer of bad tidings was the source of the unpleasant news.

With his padawan simmering away, it had been a tense and silent journey. The master had given up on placating the apprentice: the young man would have to find his own release.

After a few minutes of silence, Anakin deigned to respond.

"I find them cold and uninviting," Anakin pronounced with a glare at his master. "You, however, must come from such a climate as this since you find it so pleasing. I may hate Tatooine, but I am more adapted to its climate than that below."

It had been years since Anakin had left the hot desert planet of Tatooine forever behind him, but its heat remained within his veins. He knew he would find Skore cold and uninviting.

"I have never inquired as to the planet of my birth," Obi-Wan said with great dignity. "I just happen to appreciate wild places and beautiful sights. Look how clear the atmosphere is. I can hardly wait for a breath of fresh air. I found the air on that last planet to be, well, an affront to the senses."

"I much prefer cities and technological comforts," Anakin grumbled, an undertone of longing in his voice. "I wish we were back on Coruscant."

Obi-Wan glanced sideways at him with a raised eyebrow. All too often, lately, his padawan longed for Coruscant. Considering his somewhat unseemly zest for action, which the Clone Wars provided in ample measure, he found it disconcerting this constant longing for the Temple.

"Are you that eager to spend time in meditation?" he asked innocently; though a wicked gleam showed in his eye. He broke into another chuckle at Anakin's scowl.

"I miss…." his voice trailed off.

The look that Obi-Wan shot at him this time was a mix of worry and concern. He had no solid reason for his feeling of unease, only suspicions. He hoped Anakin's moping attitude was a result of his youth; even for a Jedi, he had been forced to grow up much too fast.

He had been a slave for the first nine years of his life, before leaving his former life and his mother behind to be a Jedi, only to lose his first mentor – Obi-Wan's own Master, Qui-Gon Jinn - before his journey as a Jedi had even begun.

Qui-Gon's death had abruptly thrust the two of them into a relationship neither had contemplated: the newly knighted Obi-Wan unexpectedly became master to the child; their relationship springing to being from shared grief. The boy had known of Qui-Gon's desire to train him; had indeed been present when the Jedi had put forward Obi-Wan for the Trials so as to be free to take on a new apprentice; had known the anger Obi-Wan had tried to hide at being set aside.

The boy had felt superior; he was the preferred one. His resentment that Qui-Gon had died, no longer to fulfill his promise of training, had been re-directed at the Jedi who had taken the place he had expected another to hold.

Obi-Wan had tried hard to step into Qui-Gon's role; be the master to Anakin that Qui-Gon had been to him and would have been to Anakin. Hiding his own grief at his master's passing, knowing how unprepared he was, he had been cautious, too much so, perhaps. It didn't help that the boy was much older than Jedi usually were when beginning training. No one could guide either master or padawan along this path.

In adapting to something he had no guidelines to hold to, Obi-Wan had allowed, with some misgivings, the boy to form bonds outside the Order. The Chancellor of the Republic had taken quite a fatherly interest in the "Young Hero of Naboo" and had encouraged the boy, becoming almost a surrogate father. Recently, before the Wars actually flared into life, he had re-kindled a friendship with the former Queen, now Senator, of Naboo, Padme Amidala.

This friendship was the source of much of Obi-Wan's unease; he feared the friendship was much more; certainly, his Padawan's interest was undeniable. The raw sensual intensity that occasionally leaked through their bond embarrassed him, as if he had been deliberately caught eavesdropping on something meant to be private.

He hoped his Padawan's devotion to the Order was sufficient to restrict his interest from developing into anything forbidden. He had worked hard to reinforce that a Jedi released his emotions to the Force and did not use them to guide his actions. Even now, he wasn't sure how successfully Anakin had absorbed that lesson.

He was pretty sure that Anakin was not inexperienced with women. While he was less than pleased with this, Anakin had not formed any troubling attachments. As a former slave, his views differed sharply from most Jedi. But his attraction to the young Senator was intensely personal.

Obi-Wan hoped Padme was wise enough to avoid the potential problems any relationship other than friendship between them would cause, should Anakin be unwise enough to pursue his attraction.

"Must you look at me like that?" Anakin demanded. "Don't you miss the Temple, friends, too?"

"Of course, I do," Obi-Wan said gently. "But I focus on what I must do, not on my own wishes. That is what a Jedi does. It is the life I chose, as did you."

"Mmmm," he muttered in response. "So explain again just exactly why this planet you find so attractive needs the attention of two Jedi? Especially us two? You'd think they'd give us - you," he suddenly grinned, "a chance to rest after the last few campaigns. You're not getting any younger, you know, Master, and I was getting a bit worried about you."

"You were, young one?" Obi-Wan snorted, amused. "If my memory is correct, I have managed to avoid the healers for some months now, while you, I seem to recall, had need of their services not so long ago." A wry smile crossed his face. "I will concede that I am no longer as young as I once was, but I am still young enough to stand up to you in a sparring match, as you well know."

He was heartened by the buoyant grin he got in return.

"A scratch only, Master, as you well know, obtained in saving your life once again."

"Which only needed saving due to your own rash actions, impudent Padawan," Obi-Wan reminded him, shaking his head. "Surely, one of these days you will be the death of me –someday - when you're an old fossil like me, and unable to fly to my defense and I am too weak to hold my own lightsaber."

The two men grinned at each other, finding comfort and relaxation in their light banter. Not long ago, their relationship had been somewhat strained as Anakin's push to adulthood and independence had collided with Obi-Wan's attempt to restrain his youthful rush to the same. Then Geonosis had happened, and their lives were forever changed.

Obi-Wan had been captured and imprisoned by the Separatist leader Count Dooku, and sentenced to die in the Geonosis Arena. Anakin, charged with protecting Senator Amidala from assassins, was with her on Tatooine when they had realized, through relaying and watching Obi-Wan's interrupted holographic message that he had been captured and possibly killed. At the Senator's insistence, the two had headed to the planet where they hoped to save the Jedi.

Captured, too, they would have all died but for the intervention of the Jedi, and Master Yoda's arrival with the newly discovered army of Clonetroopers.

Casualties had been severe, and Anakin had lost an arm to youthful impetuosity as he tackled Dooku alone, against his master's express command. Both would have died, but for Yoda's intervention. Anakin had been much subdued after the conflict, which had so shortly followed the death of his mother on Tatooine.

Recognizing a new measure of maturity in his padawan, Obi-Wan had loosened the reins and encouraged the young man as he demonstrated his abilities. It would not be long now before he faced his Trials; before he left his stewardship. The source of their conflict at least minimized, their relationship was easing into that of friendly camaraderie.

Fighting side by side in numerous conflicts, away from outside influences and united in their goals, they had become a team so skilled in working together as one unit that they had become the "go to team" of the Jedi, a team as renowned as Jinn-Kenobi had been.

But this petty little rebellion didn't seem to require Jedi assistance to quell. A faction on the planet Skore wanted to join with the Separatists, and had resorted to civil war when the planet voted to stay in the Republic. However, the government of Skore had appealed to the Senate for help, and the Senate had asked the Jedi to send a team and a company of Clonetroopers to the government's aid.

Anakin wondered why.

The planet was far less urbanized than Coruscant; its cities small and few in number, with most of the populace living in small towns and villages. The planet was ringed by a vast mountain range, born of volcanism and chipped down by past ice ages. Its chief industry was tourism, as well as garments and fine cloth made from the luxurious silky hair of its native Alpacabans.

These animals were bred for their hair and allowed to roam free in rocky pastures before herding in for shearing each spring. In a galaxy where artificial fibers dominated, the uniqueness and sheer feel of this cloth brought fantastic prices to the breeders. Skore had grown rich on its exports and its tourism, fabled for its hospitality and wondrous scenery.

Obi-Wan continued to delight in it, pointing out fantastic vistas to his indifferent Padawan as their ship arrowed to its designated landing zone. Snow covered glaciers lay locked away in high mountain fortresses, not far from the habitable plateaus. The ground was stony, covered with lichen-like growth. It reminded Anakin of holopictures of Aldaraan, though the sun here was further away and the light temperature more blue than they were accustomed to.

The ship settled onto a secure docking pad within the largest city; located within a veritable parkland. Slender spires and spans bridged the many sparkling streams wandering haphazardly through the city while a few large buildings reached high.

Most buildings, however, were small and fit neatly into the landscape, rather than dominating it as with so many other planets, other than a sector housing the planet's government and city center. Lawns, fading green to yellow during the season before winter's snow dusted the landscape into a fairyland of white, held meandering paths under trees shedding summer's leaves in an explosion of riotous color rarely to be seen nowadays.

Its idyllic peace seemed unbreakable; yet the planet was at war. The two Jedi hoped to negotiate an end to the fighting before it exploded into total chaos; its small skirmishes a hope that a truce could take hold. Obi-Wan was charmed with the place; Anakin indifferent when Obi-Wan looked at him.

The hatch opened and the two Jedi stepped forward, taking the measure of the place. Obi-Wan's nose twitched, he sniffed appreciatively and nodded. He looked at Anakin approvingly.

"A good place to die," Obi-Wan whispered to him just before disembarking, taking in a deep breath of sweet air, cool and fragrant.

Cold dread gathered in Anakin's heart at the words. Icy fingers crawled down his spine, and at that moment he felt only two things: sudden fear and aching loneliness. Not again, oh Force, he couldn't lose someone dear to him again. Never again. Never.


	2. The Mission Begins

"D...die?" Anakin stammered.

"A good place to die," Obi-Wan repeated, glancing at him and raising an eyebrow in surprise.

_Now, why did that scare him so_? Obi-Wan wondered, as he gave a curious look at his padawan. Anakin's face was shuttered; so too was his thoughts. Obi-Wan was at first puzzled by Anakin's rather strange reaction to this pronouncement, before he gave a slight nod of recognition at the signs.

_Ah, he hasn't read up on this planet. As usual_, he thought to himself with a contained sigh. _Too busy brooding to study during our journey_.

Obi-Wan chuckled before explaining, now amused at his padawan's carefully blank expression.

"It's just one of their phrases, Anakin." He laid a hand on the young Jedi's arm and gave him a gentle half smile. "Their ancestors thought an honorable death in battle was the highest honor a warrior could attain. The phrase has lingered long past the wars of the past; now it means that a Skorean can think of no better final resting place. I must admit…I can understand that. It's beautiful here."

Anakin suddenly frowned. "Don't get any ideas, Master. I have no intention of leaving your bones behind on this planet."

His master's quick grin was reassuring. "I had not thought to leave my bones here. As a Jedi, I expect my end to be as with all Jedi, in flames. I rather hope that won't be for many years yet." His tone was dry, though his eyes twinkled.

"I hope so, too. If you were killed -." The young man shivered. "I don't know if I want to be there when you die."

"You will be." Obi-Wan replied without thinking, a note of certainty in his voice. It startled both men and they exchanged bemused looks. It was Obi-Wan who broke the moment with a hesitant chuckle.

"A premonition?" Anakin asked carefully.

Obi-Wan rubbed a hand over his face and his eyes looked uncertain. "I don't know." He forced a wry smile and said lightly, "Can't think of a better place to be at the time, just as long as it's not at your hand."

"No chance of that," Anakin forced a weak grin onto his own face. "I couldn't bear to see you killed, Master, but, still, not to be at your side - ." He shuddered. Obi-Wan's eyes crinkled with pleased surprise at this admission, and he laid a hand on his padawan's shoulder and squeezed it lightly.

Haunted though he had been by his own master's death in front of him, he had always been glad of one thing: his master had not died alone, but within his arms.

"We had best refocus our attention on the matter at hand. Our welcoming committee approaches."

The Skoreans were a human race, somewhat stockier than the average Coruscorian, and rather more hairy, a genetic adaptation to the cold temperatures. They were also relatively short. Anakin towered above them, and even Obi-Wan, a man of moderate height, seemed tall in comparison.

Anakin couldn't resist the opportunity to tease Obi-Wan, asking him how it felt to be considered tall. The Jedi took the jibe in good humor.

"Height is no measure of competence, Padawan," Obi-Wan had responded neutrally, but the gleam in his eye as his head tilted up to stare at the top of Anakin's head betrayed his amusement.

Seeing his smirk, Anakin groaned, but decided it was best to humor him.

"Welcome, Jedi," one of the Skoreans bowed. "I am the Welcomer and I will be your guide. My name is Ovaegir Raud." Obi-Wan bowed in return, followed a moment later by his padawan. The introductions completed, the small group escorted the Jedi towards a small transport. Raud said hesitantly, "Our destination is not far – over there. Would you…."

Immediately grasping his unasked question, Obi-Wan said, "We would be most happy to walk there. It will give us a chance to stretch our legs after our journey."

The small group exited the landing platform and stepped out onto a graveled path. Krykcrows sang cheerily overhead and small skiouros, small furry balls with tiny ears, four clawed paws, long bushy tails and inquisitive eyes scurried about searching for the seed pods of the native Lyall Larislarch lying scattered over the grounds, gathering nature's bounty in preparation for their winter's hibernation.

"Focus, Master," Anakin whispered with a crooked grin as he saw the Jedi square his shoulders in pleasure. He was rewarded with a twitch of Obi-Wan's lips and the merest glimmer of rueful acknowledgement.

"You find our planet to your liking?" their guide asked, turning a pleased eye to the Jedi.

"We find it quite to our liking," Obi-Wan said with a slight emphasis on the "we," as beside him Anakin pulled his cloak closer about him. He could almost hear his padawan's thoughts: _It is not Coruscant_, _and_ _I would appreciate one warmer than this_.

Though the air was reasonably warm there was an icy chill layered behind it: notice that the season was about to change. Obi-Wan had heard Anakin complain that just looking at snow and ice chilled his bones too many times before to pay it much attention.

"Yes, we find it very pleasing to the senses," his master continued. "However, its justly fabled scenery is not what brings us here. I understand we're here to avert a pending civil war."

"Ah, yes," Raud agreed with a small frown. "Our Council will advise the details, and why the Jedi were requested to come to our aid."

"Of course," the Jedi agreed, and he exchanged glances with Anakin. _Be careful, Anakin, not all is as it seems_, his raised eyebrow seemed to say. Anakin's lips twitched. _You always say that, Master_, was his perfectly calm response to that.

_Then I guess I have no need to remind you_. Obi-Wan grinned at his padawan and his eyes sparkled suddenly. _Perhaps my lessons have finally begun to sink in after all this time._

_Perhaps I just now choose to acknowledge them._

At this teasing reply, Obi-Wan started to laugh and covered it with a cough. Anakin had come out of his dark mood, finally, and was focused on the mission. It was a good sign.

"There aren't many people about," Anakin remarked, noting how little traffic flitted about the air lanes and how few pedestrians there were in this city of walkways and paths.

"It is somewhat between seasons," their guide said. "Most tourists are out in the country for the Season of Change and many of our citizens are off for their own period of rest. So many of them, as you know, work in tourism and this is one of our two slower periods."

He led the group down a small plaza graced with small fountains and up several steps to enter the largest and most imposing building. The hallways were broad and lined with holopics of the planet's most famous vistas, with signs - directions in Basic and in holopictograms - directing visitors to various offices.

They turned through an unmarked and unguarded doorway and found themselves boarding a lift. There was only one button, meaning only one destination – the Council chambers.

They exited the lift to find themselves in a small anteroom with several comfortable seats and little else. Off to one side of the lift stood a muscular and compact Skorean, arms hanging loosely by his side. Though his posture seemed casual, his sharp eyes closely scrutinized the Jedi, flicking casually away as he noted their lightsabers.

He nodded at the Welcomer, who pushed through the door at the opposite side as the two Jedi followed behind. Anakin almost bristled at the sentry's scrutiny, though he settled down at an almost imperceptible gesture from Obi-Wan.

"The Jedi: Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker," Raud intoned. The two Jedi bowed. "Our Council: the Presiding Counselor is Tar Abrim."

At the far side of the table sat a middle-aged man, with a strong jaw and warm brown eyes, a mane of dark hair capping his head in stark contrast to the gray at his temples. He was dressed simply, though the material was of excellent quality. His eyes fixed grimly on the Jedi.

"Thank you for coming. We hope you can prevent all out civil war," Tar Abrim began with scant formalities, indicating with a quick gesture that the Jedi were to sit. "Dissension is threatening to tear us apart."

Blunt words. The six Counselors sat at a round table, four men and two women, all but one middle-aged or older. Their eyes were all focused on the Jedi, appraisingly and yet welcoming. Those nearest the doorway had swung their seats around.

The room itself was light and airy, and with a nod of appreciation, both Jedi recognized in it the same design behind the Jedi Council chamber on Coruscant - a room for equals, not separate from its environment, but meant to blend in with the world outside. To their left, a small lake shimmered blue and silver under a soft breeze in the distance and mountains rose to their right, tall spires reaching into an impossibly clear sky.

Bluntness would be met with bluntness, for Obi-Wan had learned long ago to take his cue on behavior from those he was dealing with. Problems mainly arose when dealing with multiple parties with different styles of communication.

"I understand the pro-Separatist voting bloc won 35 of the vote to leave the Republic," Obi-Wan stated, his eyes meeting the Presiding Counselor's. "Voter participation was 79 of the eligible voters - a high percentage indeed. Yet in any vote, one side is victorious and the other not. What makes you fear civil war, or that we can prevent it?"

Unspoken was his real question: why were the Jedi requested to mediate the results of a vote, and why was a company of Clonetroopers also requested?

The Counselors returned the Jedi's look directly, deferring to Tar Abrim. The Presiding Counselor suddenly stood up and leaned on the table, his eyes locking onto Obi-Wan's.

"There have been threats, small acts of sabotage already. Now the threats have escalated, even against this Council. That is why we have a guard outside. We fear the insurgents have smuggled in droids to pursue the overthrow of the government itself. Many Skoreans have been – seduced – into believing their lives are subject to the whims of others. Our proud history," he snorted, thinking of the many lives shed over the years, "as warriors has been glorified. They claim to wish to be free of the yoke of others. Tourism is service, and service is always at the whim of the served."

"That is quite true," Obi-Wan agreed. "We have some, ah, experience with that ourselves." He allowed himself a little smile, and the Counselors smiled back.

_Find some common ground, and you have a better chance of making them your allies. _Obi-Wan didn't have to look at Anakin to know the same thought occurred to them both. Qui-Gon's old lessons continued to echo on.

"I'm sure," Tar Abrim agreed with a dry little cough of humor. "We have a stable and strong economy and the taxes we send to Coruscant are not insubstantial. Many of the disaffected have been led to believe that they - ."

"Work too hard at the whim of others, and get too little back for their hard work," Anakin interjected smoothly. "Yes, we understand that." He shot an innocent look at Obi-Wan, who remained outwardly tranquil, though he sent a quick thought at his padawan.

_Later, Padawan. What you will get for your hard work is your Knighthood, but _when _you take the Trials will be at _my_ own ' whim_,' he admonished gently, amusement in his mind voice for Anakin's gentle jibe at him. Over the last year this former irritating conversation had become merely comfortable banter.

"They believe that by allying themselves with the Separatists, they will be free to use droid labor, pay less in taxes, and spend more time in leisure pursuits," Tar Abrim finished. "Our laws allow the use of droid labor for only the most menial of tasks. Their use is strictly regulated. We don't know if the threats are strictly the work of the radical disaffected or instigated by Separatist agents. The presence of a droid army – real or not – is a threat to our peace, regardless of whose control it is. Violence will begat violence."

"Should there be a droid army, and we eliminate it, what is to stop another army from replacing it?" Obi-Wan asked sensibly. "The Jedi cannot remain here on guard for that possibility. I also understand that you have your own army. Why call Republic forces in?"

"Our army, such as it is, is small in number and has no experience fighting droids," Tar Abrim said, impatiently waving away the question.

"If our suspicions are correct, this is a Republic matter as well as a Skorean matter. If there is a change of government, the planet can easily join the Separatists, or there could be a protracted civil war. As I said, the acts of violence are escalating. Innocent visitors to our world could be harmed, as well as our own people. We do not wish to see either happen, nor, it appears, does the Senate. Skoreans do not like outsiders meddling in our affairs. While it is true that you are not Skoreans, the Jedi are respected, even if the Galactic Senate is…less favorably looked upon. Should a connection be established between these insurgents and the Separatists, the people themselves will disassociate themselves from these "seemingly innocent' acts."

_Master, they wish to protect tourism and the Senate to protect the tax base, _Anakin thought in sudden realization.

_Of course, Padawan. That is quite clear_.

_Hardly a Jedi matter. _Anakin sounded disapproving

_We serve the Senate as it directs, Padawan_. But there was something in the way the thought came through that indicated Obi-Wan was in agreement with his Padawan on the matter. The Jedi's inclinations were to remain aloof from politics, though that was impossible to do. Obi-Wan's views on politicians amused both Anakin and his wife, Senator Padme Amidala – both, in fact, shared his views to a degree, as Padme ruefully admitted from time to time.

"We believe the droids were smuggled in and hidden on a high mountain plateau some ways from here. There is ore in that area which masks surveillance equipment from registering their presence. For that same reason, any engagement with the droids would have to be a ground assault only. That is where we wish you to go, to find if there are droids hidden there, and destroy them if they are. If you can capture the rebel Skoreans as well - possibly find a connection to the Separatists…."

"On terrain they have chosen themselves?" Obi-Wan was clearly skeptical. "I would suggest we – entice - them," and a small smile crossed his lips, "onto a field of our own choosing. Did you not say they have threatened to overthrow the Council? Might I suggest we bait a trap with you as the lure?"

The Council members quickly began debating the merits of the proposal as the two Jedi sat quietly observing. Several destinations were proposed and discarded. Finally, Tar Abrim called for quiet. He suggested the Council agree on the plan, with the final location to be decided later after further discussion and review.

"I would like to take the rest of the day to go over maps and get the plans ready, with you announcing the Council's visit tomorrow," Obi-Wan suggested quietly. "We'll go ahead tomorrow, setting up base at one of the towns near where you think the insurgents are hiding. We'll pose as outdoor adventurers, which will allow us to scout the area as well."

The counselors looked at each and nodded. Satisfied, Tar Abrim came around the table and held out a hand to each of the Jedi.

"Agreed. Raud will take you to your guest quarters. In the meantime, I will send you both holomaps and the Commander of our army. You may use her troops as you see fit. She was raised in the mountains and knows the area well. You can provide details of your plan to me later."

The two Jedi bowed, and followed their guide to their quarters. The Skoreans had given them rooms in the best lodging, rooms usually occupied by the well-to-do and well-connected in the galaxy.

"Luxury, indeed," Obi-Wan murmured, when he saw his richly appointed room. A huge transparisteel panel overlooked a corner of the lake and a slice of mountains. A long range holocam was built into one wall, next to a large and comfortable chair arranged with several others in a corner of the room. After months of mud and rain, sleeping on the hard ground or in tents, he could hardly believe such luxury even existed.

He didn't dare test the bed for he had a sudden urge to test its comfort. It would be all too easy to let sleep overtake his weary body, for though he had slept well on the trip here, he had driven himself too hard for too long on too little sleep. Even Master Yoda, he thought with a grin, would find its lure irresistible under these circumstances. The very thought of Yoda, yawning and sprawled a-slumber, deepened his grin to a smile.

Sleep would have to wait; as always. Its demands came last, but somehow, he hoped, time would allow him a long rest shortly.

He removed his cloak and hung it away, sat on a chair and pulled off his boots with a sigh and reached for the thoughtfully provided soft indoor boots. He had just unclipped his lightsaber when the door softly chimed and Anakin slid in with a huge grin on his face.

"I could get used to quarters like this," he said, motioning wide, and waiting for Obi-Wan's gentle rebuke. When none came, he raised an eyebrow and came to sit next to Obi-Wan. "You're not going to say anything, Master? Has such magnificence struck you speechless?"

"Hardly," Obi-Wan replied with a tired grin as he stretched his legs out comfortably. "I am looking forward to enjoying at least one night in such surroundings, but we have some work ahead of us before we can indulge ourselves. Why don't you get Cody in here and we can start planning."

The two Jedi studied their datapads and compared notes as they awaited the arrival of Cody and the Skorean commander. When the door chimed, Obi-Wan looked up and with a negligent gesture, used the Force to open the door. "I know, I know," he said to Anakin with a crooked grin. "I'm too comfortable to get up and open the door."

He waited, eyebrow cocked for Anakin's protest at this trivial use of the Force – often a bone of contention between them in the past –but saw it was swallowed. It wasn't hard to assume that Anakin had noticed the lines radiating from his eyes and the weary slump of his shoulders that he saw when he caught an occasional glimpse of himself in unguarded moments.

Cody entered with a woman, smartly uniformed and immaculately coiffed. She only came to Cody's shoulder, but the aura of assurance she carried with her seemed to diminish the physical disparities between the two. She snapped a brief salute, her eyes going to the men's propped up legs and casual positions. Both Jedi looked up and got to their feet at their entrance.

"General Kenobi. Anakin Skywalker." Her voice was carefully neutral. "Major Jaysson. Tar Abrim has briefed me on your initial plan."

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his sandy hair and said gently, "I may be a general, but I'm not much for military protocol and formality. Please, sit. We've been studying the terrain. What do you think of using Skarea? We could easily sneak in your troops and Cody's in the surrounding terrain, and surprise your rebels if they take the bait."

"I'd suggest Daquera instead, General. It is deeper into the mountains, which puts it into shadows much earlier. That gives us more time to get troops into position." Her voice was firm; her look steady at the famous Jedi - everything about her showed she was not in the slightest bit intimidated by them.

"We can get the transport within several klicks of Daquera, using this ridge as cover," Cody agreed. "Land here, and move into position easily."

"Sound carries in the mountains," Major Jaysson contradicted him. "You can land no closer than here," she pointed, "if we assume they are somewhere here. The terrain is rough and pockmarked with gullies and ravines, but several of my troops know the Alpacaban trails that wind through there. They can get you into position without much problem."

"Do you expect any Skoreans to be with the droids?" Anakin asked bluntly. He glanced at Obi-Wan, who only nodded encouragingly at him, despite keeping his gaze directed elsewhere. The Jedi was studying the datapad, a frown on his face that Anakin knew only too well. Obi-Wan had a bad feeling about this, and was letting Anakin do the talking while he wrestled for answers to his doubts. Sometimes the Force would give them, but usually it only showed him several possibilities against which he could plan.

The major hesitated. "You mean, of course, the rebels. I would say yes, if this is truly a rebellion. If it is actually a Separatist droid army taking advantage of disaffected Skoreans - it is possible, but have the Separatists droid armies ever engaged in battle with sentients at their side?"

"No, they have not," Obi-Wan answered, still studying his datapad. "Why does the Council fear outright civil war, rather than these continuing minor acts of sabotage?"

He looked up at the silence. "Is there any information you wish to share with us, Major? On or off the record?" His voice was mild, but his eyes stared into hers.

She straightened her shoulders and her eyes glittered. "You see it, too. Something seems just a bit – off. This last threat, to the Council - if the Council is attacked or captured, the planet would mobilize and civil war would break out. Tourism would crash, and exports slow to a trickle. The economy would collapse. But no one would gain from that."

"And if it happens that one or two members of the Council were to avoid capture or death should some violence be carried out against the Council?"

"New elections, but the government stands, as does government policy until the next election."

"Hmm," Obi-Wan said slowly. His hand strayed to his chin, stroked it absently. "Have there been any inquiries into any new economic concerns, rumors, debates, anything?"

"Sir. There was talk of opening the mountains to mining, but the Council feared the impact on the environment, and through it, to tourism. Even exploration was denied."

"Is that anywhere near this off-limit area?" Obi-Wan asked mildly. "I see it was not restricted until fairly recently."

She looked over his shoulder. "Yes sir, near the middle I would say."

Anakin and Obi-Wan exchanged looks, remembering the mention of ore that would interfere with any aerial assault. They had heard of this before – the Chancellor had asked the Jedi Council to check into rumors that someone had find a way to transform the ore into shielding for battle ships and fighters both. Had someone?

If the Skorean government collapsed and the planet erupted into open warfare, no doubt someone could take advantage of the chaos and set up mining operations. Had the Separatists hoped to take control of the ore through the chaos that would follow the collapse of the government, or if open warfare erupted on the planet? Could someone in the Skorean government be involved?

"Was the Council united on their stand?"

"The vote was unanimous."

"No debate?"

"Sir. There was discussion of course, but in the end, the Council agreed. Even those who wished to diversify the economy didn't want to risk the environment for what gains mining might have provided."

"I appreciate that, Major, but still, Skore is basically a service economy, dependent on tourism. Should the wars come close to here, perhaps even to Skore itself, could that not cripple your economy?"

Jaysson looked steadily at him, turning over his words. He watched her mind race, putting facts together, speculating on possible outcomes, deciding whether to trust the Jedi with her suspicions.

"Permission to…speculate, General," she finally asked. Obi-Wan nodded.

"There is no doubt that the war has already impacted tourism, though not on any major scale. There seems to be no benefit in opening the mountains to mining – if we use droids, there are few jobs to be created, and if we use Skorean labor, most would prefer the life they have now. Mining is too difficult and the reward too insignificant."

"Ore needs to be refined, manufactured into something useful, shipped," Obi-Wan countered. "Certainly some Skoreans would benefit from that."

The major looked skeptical. She obviously wasn't aware of the possibility that if a relatively cheap and easy process had been developed to make use of the ore, whoever controlled it could be very rich indeed.

Obi-Wan sighed and rested his chin in his hand. "I suggest we go ahead with using the Council to try to lure your insurgents out by letting them announce a visit to Daquera. We'll put troops into position as you suggest and be prepared for anything. I suggest you and Cody make your arrangements and get in position tomorrow or the following night. The Council will make their visit the day after that, with the announcement going out tomorrow. Agreed?"

Once Cody and the major left, Obi-Wan sprang to his feet and headed over to the long range holotransmitter and punched in the code for the Jedi Temple archive. Skore was far enough from Coruscant that there was some delay in transmission.

As they waited, Obi-Wan said thoughtfully, "Anakin, why don't you contact Tar Abrim and make the arrangements while I discuss this whole ore situation with Jocasta Nu. She would know more than the Jedi Council combined."

Jocasta had little news to impart. In short, little information was available. The Jedi team investigating the possible link between the ore and rumors of its exploitation had been pulled off the investigation and sent as backup to one of the many battlegrounds of the Clone Wars.

The two Jedi settled back on a couch, Anakin scowling and Obi-Wan rubbing his chin as they reviewed contingency plans. Finally, with a soft sigh of dismissal, Obi-Wan laid his datapad on a table. He stood up and wandered over to the window, standing with hands clasped behind his back.

The sun was slowly sinking out of sight and the lake flamed red, reflecting off a few clouds that had appeared above it. The light dimmed, off in the distance, the mountain peaks flamed red as if with a bonfire as the last rays of the sun crowned the highest peaks with the last of its light.

"I always think of Qui-Gon when I see the sunset," he murmured. "I can almost feel him standing beside me, a hand on my shoulder. He would have liked this one."

"You still miss him," Anakin said, surprised at the longing in his master's voice. Obi-Wan nodded and turned to face him.

"I do. I accepted his loss years ago, but acceptance does not mean one has to give up one's memories. It's how we act on what's in our hearts, not what's in them, that is important."

Anakin rarely heard such introspective words from his master. After all these years, he could still be surprised by Obi-Wan. He was even more surprised when Obi-Wan came over and placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him. "I do not mourn the past, but I find comfort in remembering it. I have the future to worry about, and that is where my deepest concerns lay."

Obi-Wan's words warmed him even more than the touch, for his master was speaking of his concern for his padawan, his hopes and doubts. Obi-Wan rarely spoke openly, but the feeling coming through the bond made it perfectly clear what he was saying. Anakin swallowed, hard, at the affection he felt directed at him.

"Center yourself in the here and now," he said gently, a smile playing over his lips. "Tomorrow will come another day, Master. Today is before you." Obi-Wan's hand tightened on his shoulder in recognition of the oft-heard words. Anakin reached up and placed his hand over Obi-Wan's and the two Jedi smiled at each other.

"You won't be my Padawan much longer," Obi-Wan said softly.

"No, but I'll always be your friend," Anakin replied, just as softly. "I'll still be at your side." He smirked and added, "I just won't be taking any orders from you."

Obi-Wan had to chuckle. _So what's new_? The two Jedi looked at each other and broke out laughing. It was a good way to end the day; a good way to start a mission. It boded well.


	3. A Jedi Falls

**Chapter 3 A Jedi Falls**

The two Jedi caught the regular intraplanetary shuttle, posing as tourists and sports enthusiasts after having spent the prior day in preparation. The two nights in their luxurious quarters had done much to refresh them both physically and mentally.

Obi-Wan was looking forward to visiting Daquera; even if he was less than enthused with the mission itself. Scouting the area would give the Jedi a chance to see the fabled mountain country of Skore, even if their time there was spent in observation. There was no reason for them not to enjoy it at the same time.

The mission, however – most likely it would not end without a fight, injuries, perhaps even death. True, civil insurgencies had been averted before this, with mediation, but the Jedi had not been asked to mediate, they had been asked to quell it. With the escalating acts of violence and latest threats to topple the government, it was not likely to end with a peaceful resolution.

Obi-Wan had had quite enough of battle in the last year plus to serve him a lifetime. If he never had to lift his lightsaber in combat again, he would be quite pleased.

He glanced at Anakin as they settled into their seats. The young Jedi had seemed to cheer up since their arrival and they'd had quite a companionable evening that first night, just relaxing before the next day's expected hectic preparations. They both knew Anakin's time as a padawan was drawing to an end and their future lives would reflect this.

With the war in full swing, little would change for either of them as long as they continued in the fight to save the Republic. There would be no time to think about, let alone act on, the usual changes that would follow a padawan's knighting.

In time, either or both of them would take a padawan. _Strange, to think of someone else wearing the mantle of "my Padawan_," Obi-Wan mused, thinking he might prefer his next one to be quiet and dutiful – he had quite enough gray hairs and near heart attacks from training Anakin. _But life wouldn't be near so exciting_. He felt a pang in his heart.

Anakin, now, he shook his head at the thought of his still impulsive, powerful padawan, at the mercy of his own padawan learner – and smiled at the thought of Anakin, sighing in frustration and beating his head metaphorically against a wall – Anakin would either learn patience, or have a number of very frustrating years ahead of him.

"What are you grinning about?" Anakin asked suspiciously as Obi-Wan stared at him, apparently finding something humorous in the sight.

"Just imagining you as a Knight, with a Padawan driving you crazy." His eyes twinkled, and Anakin snorted. As long as the war continued and they were both fighting in the front lines, neither of them would be taking on a Padawan, let alone thinking about doing so.

"You're getting sentimental, Master," he scoffed. "First the other night, now this…just what is this planet doing to you?"

Obi-Wan merely grinned back and commented, "We have had little time to think, let alone ponder the future, for many months now." Growing suddenly serious, he leaned forward and placed a hand on Anakin's knee.

"I am very proud of you, Anakin. Someday you will be a very great Jedi Knight. You have come so far in such a short time." _All that is left is for you to learn to master yourself. _His last thought was left unspoken.

Anakin's eyes brightened and he smiled, pleased at hearing such rare words of praise. He knew his master well enough to know what often went unspoken, but found Obi-Wan's lack of verbal expression frustrating. Many times he had longed for his master's express appreciation; many times he would have liked more than just a quiet "well done." Obi-Wan's approval was hard to earn.

_Why does he continue to need another's approval? A Jedi's reward comes not from praise, but from following the Force_. After all these years, Obi-Wan still wondered how much of Anakin remained hidden from his understanding. He had tried, but somehow, a part of Anakin had remained separate and untouchable. A consequence, he supposed, of his early life before joining the Jedi Order.

He had learned much from simple observation and the occasional rare and cherished moments when it seemed that little was secret between them. Those moments, all too few of them as it were, had decreased over the years. Obi-Wan had grown used to the idea that there would never be that same degree of closeness with Anakin that he had shared with his master. In that acceptance, he had found peace.

The older Jedi continued to study his padawan. Anakin seemed to have lost his initial enthusiasm to get on with the mission, which Obi-Wan put down to reluctance to go into higher, and therefore colder, country.

Instead it was disappointment; Anakin had tried to contact his wife on the long range holotransmitter in Obi-Wan's room while the Jedi was busy elsewhere, but Padmewas unreachable when he called. He had been thrilled at the prospect, and irritated at his failure. He had not spoken to Padme in several months, and to have had the chance and missed it plunged him into despair as dark as the gloom that had so dampened his spirit on the journey to Skore.

Coming in via the shuttle gave them a chance to correlate holomap details with physical observation. It was how most visitors arrived, so their arrival went unnoticed. The town of Daquera, more a village really, lay back from the small lake where its lodgings overlooked the magnificent scenery.

The Jedi arrived mid-afternoon, too late to set out on the explorations that had supposedly brought them there, giving them a perfect excuse to wander around town and into various establishments once they secured their modest lodgings.

In their assumed roles as adventurers, they wandered down to the café catering to the visitors at the end of the day when the hikers and climbers had returned from their various trips. The small shop offered a selection of food goods, holomaps and the usual tourist paraphernalia, and as such, served as a hub for the less-financially connected and more active tourists.

Studying the holomaps at a counter, Obi-Wan pointed to a lake. "This might be a fun trip," he said. "What do you think?"

"Um, maybe," Anakin said. They put their heads together and argued over the merits of various destinations.

There was nothing like a good debate over this trail versus that one to draw others into the conversation, and before long Obi-Wan and Anakin were sitting at a table with some newfound friends, swapping tales and trading advice on places on go.

"What about hiking up somewhere in this area?" Obi-Wan asked as he pointed with a callused finger, nudging a tall T'karian next to him. Several of his tablemates immediately advised that the place was currently off limits.

Strangely, each one of them had heard a different reason why. Unstable slopes that were prone to rock fall, said one, contradicted by another who said it was because they'd interfere with the passage of the Alpacabans from their summer ranges to their winter grounds. The one thing they all agreed on was that the area was off-limits, and anyone caught violating the boundary was deported.

"Ah, well then, let's head up to Lake Lystere tomorrow," Obi-Wan said, allowing disappointment to color his voice. "Maybe we can see a rock avalanche for ourselves."

They headed off on the path at first light, hoisting packs, their lightsabers tucked neatly within yet easily called to hand if necessary. They would clip them within their clothing after they put some distance between them and the village, for they didn't think they would have any need of them near town.

The trail skirted the lake edge before heading towards the mountains, passing through stands of trees before heading for a ridge high above, where it leveled out for a ways.

Here, the terrain was much rougher, not many kilometers from the mountain flanks. Stones, scoured by past glaciers lay scattered in the stony meadows. Stalks of dying flowers drooped in small patches where once mighty boulders had been reduced to ground gravel and greenery had crept in over the last few hundred years.

The terrain was uneven, pocketed with small ponds and the occasional wind-blasted shrubs. Golden hued trees glowed in dappled glades as the sun's ray shimmered through translucent leaves. Pockets of ice hid in shadowed depressions, ice crystals pointing skyward in parallel rows from the trail bed, a clear sign that one season was sliding into another.

Beings from many worlds paid good credits to visit this wild and scenic place. Some just came to picnic beside the roar of small waterfalls cascading down stone ledges into small pools where streams snaked through green corridors or to hike stony paths to vistas of unsurpassed beauty.

Others sought to test their physical skills by climbing the rough rocky walls or scaling the icy peaks. Long winters brought a soft blanket of white that softened the harsh contours and turned the mountainous terrain into a winter playground.

At this time of year, the snow was mainly confined to higher areas away from the largest population centers. Small glaciers and permanent snow fields hung in sheltered depressions, shielded in shadows for most of the day by high bulwarks of rock.

Waterfalls, roaring torrents of tumbling waves after the winter's freeze lifted were now small trickles that slid down vertical drops into blue pools, each with its own outlet stream of meandering silver among the dying brown grasses.

Switchbacks carried them to a higher ridge where they could catch a glimpse of their supposed destination. No one was around; the air was peaceful with the harsh cackle of contented Krykcrows and the chatter of skiouros. Obi-Wan reached for his lightsaber and clipped it near to hand, and nodded at Anakin, who had done the same. They tucked their packs out of sight and slipped silently away from the lake, heading off the path to the off-limit area to scout it out.

_That way_, Obi-Wan indicated with a hand gesture, and carefully weaved among the trees at a different angle from his padawan. At this elevation, the sunlight refracting off yellow boughs turned the air gold. It caught Obi-Wan's imagination: this must be what the Force would look like if made visible, warm and glowing, all enveloping. There would be no harm in loitering for a few minutes, so he settled his back against a tree trunk and turned his face upwards, soaking in the radiance and absorbing its peace and warmth.

He wouldn't mind a few days just spent like this; at least the mission granted him this moment to indulge in whimsical thoughts.

That thought brought Anakin to mind, probably griping that he just couldn't get warm. He had protested as soon as they'd stepped forth that morning, rubbing his hands and complaining of cold toes.

Obi-Wan had finally learned to ignore his padawan's grumblings for Anakin was more than capable of solving his problems himself if he but tried. Too often he didn't, wanting his master to have all the answers. Or, in this case, hand and foot warmers.

_Oh, well_, Obi-Wan sighed, _I'm not going to get Anakin thinking independently by leaning against a tree in the wilderness_. Regretfully turning his focus back to his task, he reached the crest of a small ridge where he could glimpse ahead of him a meadow set amongst the rocky bowls rising above it. All seemed peaceful and quiet, but a sense of foreboding struck him. Dark shadows masked what appeared to be an entrance.

_Ah_, he thought, _this might be it._

Anakin silently slipped down to join him, shaking his head to show he had found nothing to report. The two Jedi studied the rock face through their electrobinoculars.

"If there is an army in there, a frontal attack would just get us all slaughtered," Obi-Wan said quietly. "They can hide in there and pick us off. Hopefully the Council's arrival lures them out into the open… suppose there's a back entrance somewhere?"

The two Jedi grinned at each other. "Shall we confirm our suspicions?" Obi-Wan didn't bother to wait for a reply. Any suggestion of action was certain to be accepted by his Padawan. The two Jedi carefully slipped between boulders, keeping low behind bushes and trees as they crept closer, confirming that it was indeed a cave entrance.

Their eyes met, and Anakin indicated he would look for an alternate entry while Obi-Wan tried to confirm what was inside the cavern. Obi-Wan waited until Anakin had a chance to get some distance away before attempting to get closer.

Looking around, he saw that if he climbed a rock face to a ledge, he could use it to gain access to a vantage point that might allow him to see inside.

He tucked his lightsaber inside his tunic where the sun could not reflect off the handgrip. He was about to remove his cloak, but looking around him, he thought it would blend in better than his tunic, though it would hamper his movement somewhat.

With a last look around, he ran across the open flat to the rock face, keeping low and prepared to drop to the ground at any sign of movement. He made it without incident. Looking up, he saw handholds and cracks that would allow him easy access up the face without the use of his cable launcher. Good, that would be quieter, too.

Testing each hand and foot hold before committing his weight to it, he inched up the face and pulled himself onto the ledge. After a quick check around him, he crept along the ledge until it narrowed. Carefully, he edged along, using cracks to jam his fists into while his toes slid along the small projection, his heels hanging over empty air, until the ledge widened again.

Even with a number of meters of open air below his boot heels - _easier on the nerves and_ _safer than flying with Anakin_ - he found a good spot to crouch and pull out his electrobinoculars. There was still no sign of sensors or any defense grid and then he felt like kicking himself. The ore. Sensors would be of little use here. Either the Jedi were on a wild Bantha chase, or the droids had no fear of discovery. He squinted, trying to pierce the gloom of the cavern, and held a palm over his eyes to shield them.

There! He caught a flash off something. He waited patiently. Another flash, and this time he saw what created it. Droids all right. Super battle droids, but not droidekas, armed with PL35 blasters – powerful at close range and relatively quiet, with an effective range of only several hundred meters. He couldn't determine if any Skoreans were inside, but that wouldn't affect the plan he was formulating anyway. He knew droids were there, armed, and they weren't just there for decoration.

He heard a soft footstep disturb a pebble above him. It was Anakin, joining him. He ignored the sound as he concentrated on seeing all that he could.

"Snuck up on you, Master," a soft voice breathed in his ear, with an air of triumph.

"Never," Obi-Wan contradicted. "The day you sneak up on me is the day I hang up my lightsaber."

Anakin reported that he had heard voices wafting up through a small vent and had been able to get just a glimpse inside the cavern. They had confirmation now of both sentient and droid presences.

After exchanging notes they carefully retreated to the main path where they headed back to town. They were in agreement that the insurgents were holed up in the mountain with a force of droids to back them up. When news reached them of the Council's unexpected arrival, hopefully they would leave their mountain retreat and attempt to kill or take hostage the Skorean Council.

The Jedi and their troops would be waiting for them to emerge and surround them. They probably wouldn't be lucky enough to get them to surrender, but one way or the other the insurgency would be broken.

That night under cover of darkness, the Jedi rendezvoused with Cody, Major Jaysson and their troops at the landing zone, retracing their path and getting into position in the dark hours of the night. They settled in, with nothing to do but wait for movement.

"The Council's ship should arrive within several hours," Anakin said unnecessarily. "What if they got past us in the night and are down there? What if they sabotaged the ship and it blows up? They may not even take the bait."

"What if we wait as planned?" Obi-Wan said wearily. "We've been over this, Anakin. We have a squad of Clonetroopers posing as the Council; we know the ship was scanned for sabotage and guarded constantly until departure. We've anticipated almost every possibility and done what we can to protect against something unexpected. Do try to be patient, Anakin."

"I know, I know…but patience is not a skill I've mastered," Anakin muttered unhappily. Beside him, Obi-Wan merely rolled his eyes.

As the sky started to show hints of lighting, droids and Skoreans began to emerge, looking warily about them. Obi-Wan waited until it appeared the last of the group was out in the meadow before signaling the first move via his comlink.

"There's our signal – be prepared to move on my command," Obi-Wan indicated with a gesture as a dull thud reverberated oddly amongst the rocky defiles. He drew his lightsaber and held it loosely in his hand, waiting and watching the cavern entrance as acrid smoke began to billow out. The droids immediately swung into battle-ready stance as the Skoreans tried to analyze the situation. Anakin tensed, preparing to spring into action.

"Wait," Obi-Wan cautioned, one hand on Anakin's forearm. "Give them a chance to surrender; our mission is to stop the violence." He nodded to Major Jaysson, who raised her voice and asked for the insurgents to surrender. The only answer was blaster fire.

"Why does no one ever give up?" Obi-Wan asked plaintively. It was a rhetorical question.

"Fire," he indicated with a sigh. The troopers opened fire from their hidden positions. He hoped the clear evidence that they had the insurgents surrounded and were dropping the droids like a carnival game shoot out might cause the Skoreans to reconsider fighting, but it was a futile hope. Obi-Wan had known it would be.

He expected they would try to fight their way back into the cavern where they would hold the superior position. "Proton grenades," Obi-Wan called through his comlink to the troops waiting by the vent that Anakin had discovered. Immediately, more smoke billowed from the cave entrance and the ground rumbled.

"Target the entrance," he commanded. Their heavy artillery slammed against the rock, dropping chunks of rocks between the retreating Skoreans and the entrance. They had no option now but to fight or surrender. The blood of their fierce warrior ancestors still ran strong in their veins. They kept fighting.

It almost seemed too easy. Their long range shells dropped among the massed droids before they could spread out, while the troops easily picked off droids. They had them surrounded on all possible sides.

The Skoreans scattered, relying on fleetness of foot to try to carry them past their attackers' position. Some got through; then charged the entrenched troops from behind. It turned into open warfare too quickly. Anakin let out a yell and took off after one Skorean who was nearly in range of several Clonetroopers, who seemed unaware of the danger behind them.

"Blast it," Obi-Wan smacked his hand against a rock. With Anakin and several eager Clonetroopers following at his heels, it was too dangerous for long range shelling.

"Blasters only, no shelling," Obi-Wan passed the command. "Direct target shooting only."

_Another good plan down the drain_, Obi-Wan thought as he charged after Anakin. The boy's disregard for battle tactics somehow was always successful – somehow - though Obi-Wan was sure he gained at least a few more gray hairs each time Anakin "followed his instincts."

The battle turned brutal, but no lives had yet been lost, though many had been injured and most of the droids had been cut down. Obi-Wan Kenobi took satisfaction in that, though he knew it couldn't last. He wielded his lightsaber with technical precision, as Anakin laid waste with sweeping moves and daring forays, until the droids they had been battling lay smoking in pieces on the ground about them.

Out of the corner of one eye, he caught Anakin grinning impudently at him. "A good day's work, Master," he called cheerfully. "Bit of a nice exercise, this."

Obi-Wan shook his head. He had long ago given up on trying to subdue his padawan's unseemly spirit for "adventure," in what was not a game, but something far more deadly. He had become a General in this war, but he would just as soon not have a war to participate in. He had seen far too much death and destruction in his life.

Anakin thrived on it, even as Obi-Wan recoiled. Their different attitudes made no difference. They were Jedi, sworn to the service of the Republic, and they both served it as requested.

Obi-Wan was grateful for the moment, a moment's calm amongst the chaos of battle. He returned his padawan's smile, almost wishing he was that young again with all the untiring strength youth gave one. Yet youth could not match maturity for sheer endurance, for Maturity gave one endurance to match the tirelessness of Youth.

Respite or not, he remained alert, senses attuned to the Force. Unlike Anakin, he was wary of quick, easily won victories, and this seemed to be developing into one. Cody was leading a group on another flank, and they seemed certain to cut off the Skoreans and pin them within the larger Republic and Skorean combined forces. Hopefully, they would have sense enough to surrender.

Some whisper of warning caused him to look up, see a flash high above. Heavy duty artillery blasters shooting explosive bolts, dropping charges indiscriminately. Remote triggered, most likely, Obi-Wan assessed instantly, and aimed right at a squad of Clonetroopers. They had only seconds to get out of harm's way.

"Major Jaysson, target the glacier's cornice with the heavy stuff and let loose a barrage," the Jedi commanded into his comlink as he charged forward, gesturing to his troops to get back.

At Obi-Wan's yell, Anakin's head swung around and he stared open-mouthed as the Jedi charged forward. Obi-Wan put on a burst of speed, trying to outrun the shell spearing downward, trying to warn his troops to find cover or get out of the way, seemingly oblivious to the danger he might be in.

The shell detonated with a thunderous roar, but it had missed the troops by mere yards. Near enough to toss them around, far enough to spare their lives. They scrambled to their feet, some holding onto bloody arms or legs, but relatively unhurt. Obi-Wan huddled on the ground where he had been thrown, with his arms protecting his head and neck, then scrambled back to his feet, heading to one trooper moving slowly on a badly injured leg.

With a thunderous roar, a wall of ice and snow shattered and began to roar down the cliff face, gathering momentum as tons of what had once been perched precariously on the mountain careened wildly down, smashing into the hidden heavy blasters and crushing them to pieces.

Just before the blasters were smashed and buried two more quick blasts were triggered. Shards of rock, of gravel, of torn vegetation blasted into the air. The injured Clonetrooper, the one nearest to Obi-Wan was torn in two and his body dropped back to the crater the blast left behind.

With not even a second to think - nary a thought, but an instinct, Obi-Wan twisted in the air and threw out both his hands towards the troops he was racing towards with sudden urgency and great determination even as he felt the ground drop from his feet. Or perhaps it had been he who was catapulted upwards by the blast, away from the ground. Whichever it was, the ground went one way and he the other.

The Jedi flew helplessly through the air and slammed into the ground with a whomph of air exploding from his lungs at the force ofthe impactagainst his rib cage, the crack of breaking bone buried under the exhalation of breath. The Force had given him less than its usual fraction of a second of warning.

The shock sent him tumbling helplessly, somersaulting into and over rocks and against stony hard ground, compacted with the long gone weight of glaciers, until; finally, he slid to a stop in a broken heap. Smears of blood and scraps of cloth marked his passage.

He lay, shocked; too stunned to even reach into the Force. He was in a void, bereft of his physical senses, shaken out of his connection with it.

Obi-Wan wasn't sure if he was conscious, or even if he was alive or dead. He knew his eyes were open, but he could not see. He knew his ears heard sounds, but he could make no sense of them. He knew he lay shattered and broken, but he felt no pain.

More important to him, he knew Anakin survived that which he had not, or might not, with only minor injuries. If it was to be his fate, he could let the Force claim him, as long as he knew Anakin was safe.

Having been left behind by the Jedi's sudden charge and still some distance behind Obi-Wan, the shock of the blast had knocked Anakin to his knees. He huddled as rocks and sod soared above him, using his hands to cover his head and neck, occasionally letting the Force guide his lightsaber to beat away pieces that had the power to harm him.

When the rain of debris ceased to be a threat, he raised his head to look wildly around the scene. Clonetroopers were climbing to their feet and weaving towards injured comrades, but their armor had largely protected them from serious harm.

Then he saw Obi-Wan.


	4. Must I Bid Thee Farewell?

With a strangled cry of outrage, Anakin gained his feet and stumbled over to his master. Obi-Wan was sprawled on the ground, a tangled mess of man and clothing. He didn't move, didn't respond to Anakin's cries; he didn't even respond through the bond.

_A good place to die_. He remembered his heart thudding all the way to his boots when he had heard Obi-Wan utter those words and the sudden fear that had gripped him. That fear was nothing compared to the icy fingers of horror that now paralyzed his heart.

Anakin fell to his knees, and groaned in dismay and mounting fear as he saw Obi-Wan's terrible injuries. At least two limbs lay at impossible angles. One pant leg was already soaked red, the cloth tattered and torn, clinging wetly to the skin underneath with a sharp shard of bone sticking up as a snow-covered mountain peak from a field of crimson flowers. A smaller patch spread across his tunic, hungry drops seeking fresh threads to stain, like a draigon's maw devouring all in its path. A trickle of blood dripped down a cheek, wandering like an errant tear.

The spurting of blood from the broken leg spoke all too eloquently of the damage. The Jedi was in danger of bleeding to death, if he were not dead already. Anakin reached out a trembling hand- but he couldn't bring himself to actually touch him. Not at first. He was afraid of what a touch would tell him. Afraid of what he would find. That once he knew the terrible truth, there was no turning away from the knowledge.

_A good place to die_.

But what if Obi-Wan was alive? What if he ceased to be, all because his padawan was afraid of what he would find? What if Obi-Wan died, uncomforted, when he could die in the arms of his padawan!

Anakin put away his fear, and his rage, and reached to the man that was closer to him than any person, save one: the man that been father, brother, mentor - the man who would not have hesitated for one instant had it been Anakin lying on the ground.

Obi-Wan was aware of Anakin's sucked in breath, aware of his padawan's touch to his throat, and was aware of nothing, and yet, everything.

Then the pain exploded within him. Every cell in his body quivered and vibrated with its intensity, awakening screams that shook his mind but could not escape his lips. That was when he realized he must still be alive, and death became a preferable alternative. He would welcome it when it came, if it came.

He would die with Anakin at his side; the knowledge gave him peace.

Obi-Wan opened himself to the Force, tried to release the pain into it, but release first required acceptance. It was too much to accept. He lay, trying to be patient as his body writhed in agony, waiting to join with the Force, should it so will it. As Darkness crept on velvet paws through his mind, he thought with a sense of wonder, _so_ _this is what dying feels like_. It brought sweet oblivion as it stilled the body taut with agony and Peace's gentle arms welcomed the man into its soft embrace.

"Medic!" Anakin yelled frantically, again and again, his screams echoing those silent ones that had torn through his mind, that he had felt emanate from the fallen Jedi when the pain had hit. It had come without warning: exquisitely sharp, red hot thrusts - an agony that set every cell in his own body to screaming. Anakin nearly fainted with the pain. If he had felt it so intensely, than what had Obi-Wan felt?

If Obi-Wan was in such terrible pain, he _was_ yet alive!

Flinching despite himself, the young Jedi carefully laid a hand on Obi-Wan's brow and reached in to try to quiet his mind and reinforce its shields. He found nothing, nothing except the echoes of pain that were still reverberating. The mind was as quiet as if it had been drained, as if it was... forever silent. The silence was - and Anakin suddenly panicked.

What should he do? What wise counsel would Obi-Wan give?

_Think, Anakin. Think._ _You _must_ release your fear_. Airway, breathing, circulation. The ABC's of first aid, drilled into him long ago. Then, treat blooding and shock.

Because the silence was the absence of breath, of circulating blood; perhaps of life itself.

_Airway, breathing, circulation_. He carefully opened Obi-Wan's mouth, checked his throat. It seemed to be clear, thank the Force. But he wasn't breathing. And his heart was not beating.

_Clear airway, give two breaths, check for pulse_. _If there's none_, g_ive_ _thirty compressions, after locating the "V" notch in the center of the chest. Depress rapidly, using the heel of the hand in a steady rhythm. Check again for breathing, breathe twice if none. Check again for pulse, if none, give thirty compressions. Repeat as long as necessary, repeat until the heart beats and the lungs draw breath_.

Anakin chanted the procedure in his mind. _Repeat until help arrives or the rescuer is too tired to continue_. But Anakin would not tire. He would not allow himself to. He had to have the power to save Obi-Wan. He would save Obi-Wan.

Forgetting everything, Anakin bent to Obi-Wan's mouth and breathed for him, pushing air into the unresisting mouth and into his lungs. He put the heels of his hands on his chest, doing the heart's work for it, all the while willing the valiant heart to _get back to work_, remembering those long ago lessons that Obi-Wan had so patiently tutored him in.

All Anakin could do was breath for him, bind his wounds, and cry to the Force for help. And prepare himself to bid his master farewell.

Anakin checked Obi-Wan's breathing again, breathed for him again, tasting blood. By the Force, was no part of the man free from blood? When he dared, every so often, he screamed for a medic.

Until finally one arrived. One look, and the medic shook his head sadly.

"I'm sorry, son," he said gently. "Let him go."

"No, he's a Jedi, he can survive this," Anakin protested angrily. The medic just shook his head slowly, staring into the young Jedi's eyes. Anakin dropped his. He couldn't take the pity in the medic's eyes. He wouldn't accept it, for accepting it would be accepting that Obi-Wan was beyond help. That, he could never accept. Obi-Wan would live. Obi-Wan had to live.

The medic shrugged. If it made the younger man less frantic, he would do only what he could do quickly, for others were injured. If they could be helped, he would move on to them. If the older Jedi were still alive - if he wasn't already dead, he amended - he would come back and see what he could do.

His job was to help those who still could be helped. Not those who were beyond help.


	5. Tears Can't Bring Him Back

"I'm giving him a shot to stimulate his heart," the medic explained as he administered a dose into the neck of the fallen Jedi and slipped a mask over his face.

"With this mask, you don't have to breathe for him any longer. You need to put pressure on that bleeder on his leg and get it stopped right now. That's an artery. Concentrate on that for now. I have to go; there are other wounded." He got to his feet and rested his hand on the young Jedi's shoulder for a second.

"I'm sorry," he said again, knowing how empty the words would sound. But _sorry _was the only comfort he could offer. Sometimes it took a while to face the awful truth. Even for a Jedi, it seemed.

"I'll be back," he said as he hurried off. He spared a quick glimpse back over his shoulder and looked into the young Jedi's eyes. The desolation he saw there turned his words into a promise.

Anakin wanted to grab his arm and force him to stay. How dare he all but condemn his master to a painful and lingering death. But he _had_ stopped, had offered at least some aid, and directed him on what to do. The medic was right. The broken arm could wait. The broken thigh could not; the femoral artery gushed bright red. The blood had already soaked the entire leg. There would be no blood to staunch, if Anakin didn't stop that bleeding right now.

He grabbed the stained fabric, but it didn't want to tear away from the wound. He bit his lip, tried again, and with a wet slurping sound the fabric peeled away from the skin. It was an ugly wound, jagged and gaping, but Anakin had no time to think on its horror. He needed to stop the spurt of blood before there was not enough blood left to keep Obi-Wan alive.

He hated the thought, but using his lightsaber to cauterize the wound would be the quickest way to accomplish this; better than putting pressure on it. Setting his lightsaber to low power, he touched its tip gingerly to the open wound, nearly gagging at the sickish sweet smell of hot blood and acrid odor of burned flesh.

It did seal the wound. And still, Obi-Wan didn't respond to the stench or the sizzle of burning flesh. There was not a flicker in the Force.

Unfastening the Jedi's utility belt and throwing it aside, the padawan's hands resumed their quick exploration, slipping under Obi-Wan's tunic, behind his neck and head, exploring his back and ribs. He ran his hand up the leg that had not already been shredded.

His mouth closed in a grim line and he closed his eyes, not wanting to acknowledge what he saw and felt. He had known that Obi-Wan was terribly injured. But the wounds were devastating. Beyond Anakin's ability to patch. Beyond, perhaps, any medic's.

No one could survive this. Not even a Jedi. Not even Obi-Wan. Anakin would have wept, but tears would not bring Obi-Wan back. There was little he could do for him, beyond that which he was doing. What good was all his power – he couldn't save anyone. He was losing his master, and he would now never have the chance to say _goodbye_, or _thanks_, or _I love you_.

Obi-Wan had had time to say goodbye to his master, and still had grieved all these long years since Qui-Gon had died in his arms. Anakin couldn't bear the thought of Obi-Wan dying alone, in the middle of a battlefield, just one casualty among several.

As he realized that Obi-Wan would now never know how much his padawan would mourn him - mourn how so much had been left unsaid between them - the dam that had frozen his tears broke under the sheer weight of his grief. Tears fought for release; they ran down his face to fall onto the ashen face below him, mixing with dirt and blood. He gathered his master into his arms, laid his head against his chest and rocked back and forth on the stony ground, cradling the limp and broken body.

Two Jedi each shattered under the pain– one's heart with terrible mourning and one's body with unbearable pain.

He had no idea how long he had been crying over Obi-Wan, when the medic was back with a gravstretcher team. He laid a gentle hand on Anakin's shoulder as he dropped to his haunches by the young Jedi's side and ran his own survey of Obi-Wan's injuries.

"Nice job on the leg," he threw out as he ran his own check over the wounded Jedi's body. He lifted one eyelid, noted the cold damp skin, listened to Obi-Wan's breathing and took his pulse.

"Shock," he said tersely, and quickly ran his hands over the Jedi's body, noting the abdominal tenderness, a sign of internal injuries. He was amazed the man was alive with those injuries; amazed that shock had not yet finished the job the wounds had started.

He gently took the unbroken arm in one hand; with the other he pushed up the sleeve of Obi-Wan's tunic to expose his arm. Muscular and now limp, paler than the hand for the arm was rarely exposed to the elements, it was relatively unscathed, the skin pockmarked by small pools of blood welling from shrapnel that had shredded the tunic and arm underneath – minor wounds, compared to the others.

The medic quickly swabbed the forearm to remove the drops of clotting blood and dirt. He grimaced, and Anakin could see that he was frowning with concentration, for the vein was all but collapsed and sunk deep within the skin; all but denying access to the medic's probing.

Anakin sat hunched, eyes watching every move – moving back and forth from Obi-Wan's drawn face to the medic's intent expression – pleading silently for good news, for a ray of hope to lighten his heart and remove the cloud of despair threatening to swallow him in blackness and hopelessness. He sighed, along with the medic, as the needle finally found a vein and an IV started dripping fluids.

That done, the medic turned his attention to the shattered leg, the pant leg tattered and torn and shards of white bone pointing skyward, streaked red with the fountain of blood that had spurted from the torn artery, and still wafting wisps of softly curling smoke from the touch of Anakin's lightsaber. The medic slit the trouser and ripped the fabric away, slapping a bacta patch over the open wound, binding it tight with bandages and carefully immobilizing the twisted limb.

"Aren't you…aren't you going to…to straighten it?" Anakin whispered, for his eyes didn't want to see the cruelly twisted leg, turned at an angle no human leg was meant to be. He averted his eyes, returning them to Obi-Wan's face…begging his master to open his eyes and reassure him that all would yet be well, whisper words of hope that would banish the numbness in his heart.

"Not here…I am only trying to stabilize him until evac gets him to surgery," the medic answered absently, all but certain the wounded man would not survive long enough for the healers to begin an almost impossible task. It would be less cruel to let him die, for should he be lucky enough to survive – his recovery would be long and painful. No one should endure such suffering.

He sighed softly, shook his head, but directed his team to carefully move the wounded Jedi onto the gravstretcher, propping up the uninjured leg to direct blood to the body's core. He jabbed another shot into the comatose man, this one directly into his heart. Anakin winced. There was still no response from Obi-Wan, none at all.

Obi-Wan was beyond pain, perhaps. No! Anakin thought fiercely, he will survive. He must. He will. I need him.

_Master, come back! I need you_. The forlorn call rang through the Force, insinuating itself into the still body and silent mind. And something flickered at the call.

_Obi-Wan, don't leave me! Please, Master, come back_. _Tell me you'll be okay. Please._ The flicker strengthened, turned into a wavering tendril of light, exploded into a mind that whimpered in pain as awareness reawakened.

_Master_! A joyful shout echoed through their bond. The light wavered under the sound. Anakin sent a wave of love and joy to nurture and strengthen it.

Obi-Wan moaned; his body spasmed as he tried instinctively to curl around the pain, his eyes closing with his effort. Anakin grabbed onto one dirty and callused hand, whispered his name over and over, and beamed with joy and relief. A groan had never sounded so welcome. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, a one note melody of life.

Tears squeezed from under the closed eyelids and slid down the fallen Jedi's smudged and dirty face. Tears that meant pain that could not be controlled. Tears that meant Obi-Wan was alive. Tears that mixed with Anakin's own, dripping from above like the soft hesitant drops from the last of a rain storm's clouds before the rainbow signaled the refreshed sky.

An unspoken question, wordless, weak and uncertain, came through the bond.

"Yes, Obi-Wan, we're both alive. You've been badly hurt, but help is coming. Just hang on, Master. You'll be all right." Anakin's heart sang; he couldn't remember being this happy since a certain day on Naboo not long ago, when he and Senator Padme Amidala had picnicked in a meadow, ablaze with flowers, set at the foot of roaring waterfalls. A day he laid a claim on her heart, though she would not accept it. Not then.

The only day with more meaning to him was the day he married her. It was a day of joy, but a joy tinged with just a touch of regret, a day he had knowingly defied the rules of the Jedi Order. That day on Naboo, though, that was a day of pure joy untainted by shadows.

Today had become a day tainted entirely by shadows: icy dread had rooted in his heart and chilled his blood, inky fingers sending tendrils of fear to twist into his mind. Today had become a day like the day his mother died, a day like – no, he would not go there. That was a day of horror, of nightmares he had no wish to relive.

He squeezed Obi-Wan's hand tightly; limping alongside the gravstretcher, as Obi-Wan was carried to a transport and loaded with the other injured. His heart ached, knowing the pain Obi-Wan endured; seeing the lines of pain creasing his face. He had seen Obi-Wan injured before this; but he had never looked this deathly ill. Even injured, he had always been able to crack a joke or been dismissive of his wounds, offering reassurance to his worrying padawan that he would be just fine.

But now he could offer no reassurances, relieve his apprentice's fears with a dry chuckle or crooked grin. He had nothing to offer; not even hope. It was up to Anakin to provide that.

This time, there was no, "I will be fine, don't worry about me," spoken in Obi-Wan's precise and clipped tones, no reassuring touch on his padawan's arm. Always before, the words, the touch, had lessened Anakin's fear, brought a teasing smile to his face, for he had always known that his master _would_ be fine, as long as Obi-Wan said so. Obi-Wan never lied to him. Obi-Wan was never wrong.

Quickly grabbing his fallen master's lightsaber, a smear of blood tarnishing the bright handle, Anakin placed a booted foot to the evac ship's deck, preparing to leap aboard, to stay by his master's side. Commander Cody's hand lightly touched his arm, softly restraining the movement.

"Commander, you're not going with him, are you? They'll take good care of him. You know nothing can kill Obi-Wan Kenobi." Cody tried to smile; his faith in the Jedi Master was without question.

"I'm going, Cody. You can handle this. I have to be with him."

"Let the healers do what they can. That's their job. Yours is here. This battle isn't over yet."

Anakin wavered. "But, I have to be with Obi-Wan." Cody hesitated, he understood all too well what Anakin felt, but he also knew what duty required.

"He would want to be with you, too. I understand. But he would not forget his duty. He would stay, even if it were you, as much as it would hurt him to do so. He would let the healers do their job and come to you later. He would not leave."

"I would," Anakin said grimly. He pulled away from Cody and climbed aboard to drop next to the gravstretcher holding his master, so still and pale. He was so barely alive that Anakin had to check his pulse every few minutes to assure himself that Obi-Wan was still grasping onto life. He found it hard to choke back his tears; the only thing that helped was watching each rise and fall of his master's chest, movements so slight that Anakin had to concentrate to see them.

Encrusted blood, brown on the edges with centers of red, spotted the bandages in stark contrast to the translucent blue-white shade of the Jedi's skin. There were so many bandages, Anakin thought, his heart drowning in pain at seeing his master – usually so full of life and energy – reduced to this, this shell of a being.

He absently plucked clods of soil and bits of blood from Obi-Wan's hair, matted with debris from his wild tumble, as he bent over the injured man, trying not to shudder, trying not to cry…trying to be strong. Strong, for the man that needed Anakin's strength beside him, for Obi-Wan had none of his own. It had been stolen from him. Anakin vowed that that would be all that would be stripped from his master – only his strength. Not his life.

He held Obi-Wan's hand tightly within his grasp during the long moments when the Jedi Master shivered under excruciating pain. When the spasms passed, he wiped the drawn and damp face with a cloth.

Throughout the trip; he poured what comfort he could into the pain-wracked body, sending wave upon wave of healing Force to reinforce weak shields and all the while whispering, "Just hold on, Master. Hold on. Please. Hold on."

The injured Jedi was barely aware of any of this; only sometimes was he aware that his face was patted with a cool cloth; he did not feel fingers close around his hand. After one particularly bad attack, he became vaguely aware that he was cradled within familiar arms, Anakin's voice crooning in his ear to try to sooth him.

Lost in a haze of pain, he was unaware of the source of his comfort, but knowing it was there allowed him to let loose his tight clasp on what consciousness he retained. Someone watched over him; that was enough.

"Don't worry, sir. It'll take more than that to kill the general," a wounded Clonetrooper, advised. He was cradling a broken hand against his side and sitting with eyes fixed on his general.

"Unless he's dead, he's alive, and as long as he's alive, he'll stay that way. You know how stubborn the general can be, so if the medic tells you he won't make it – well, you make sure the general hears that. He'll survive, just to prove them wrong."

For a moment, but no longer, the worry lifted from Anakin's heart, and he almost found a smile within him. It only lasted until he returned his gaze to Obi-Wan, and with that look, he shivered. He just didn't know…and the medic had not been reassuring.

Such a short trip had never seemed to take so long. Anakin sighed with relief when they arrived; he had feared his master would not be able to hold on until they arrived at the Med Center.

The healers were waiting: they grabbed the gravstretcher and calmly, hurriedly, rushed the Jedi from the ship, leaving Anakin to race after, trying to keep up. He would not leave his master's side, protesting loudly, until they told him they were taking him into surgery and Anakin could not follow. Then, and only then, had Anakin allowed them to lead him away, to cleanse his own scrapes and bruises; the twisted ankle he had not even been aware of.

He refused to leave the Med Center, determined to be at Obi-Wan's side when he came out of surgery. Two medical droids argued with him; it had been a stand-off between two equally adamant and unyielding sides until Commander Cody arrived to check on his wounded men.

Fortunately, few were seriously wounded, and most had been treated and released. Their armor had largely protected them, and most had been left far behind by the Jedi's unexpected charge forward.

The dead Clonetrooper and Obi-Wan had taken the worst of the blast. Some of the wounded troops even insisted the Jedi had somehow shoved them away as the blast occurred, protecting them before he would protect himself and thereby sacrificing his own chance to dive for cover.

Obi-Wan would do something just like that: protect his troops, and in that situation his instinctive response would have been to throw a Force push. A part of Anakin cursed him for that: a part of him loved and admired Obi-Wan for those same instincts. Had Obi-Wan saved his troops at the expense of his own life?

Had Obi-Wan sacrificed his life and abandoned his padawan by doing so? Had he so little disregard for Anakin? The young Jedi bowed his head, ashamed at his thoughts. He should be proud of his master, proud that Obi-Wan cared more for the safety of others than himself. Proud, of the fine example of a Jedi that he was.

But he could not feel pride. Only fear, and overwhelming grief.

He had no idea how much time had passed as he sat with his head in his hand, thinking...trying not to think...worrying - unable to sit and unable to sit still. He hardly noticed Cody's arrival, he was too busy explaining to the medical droids for the fifth time why he was not leaving.

"I am not leaving, I've told you. And I will not lower my voice. I am not shouting," Anakin hissed angrily. Cody laid a hand on the young Jedi's arm. "Calm down, sir."

Anakin glared at him, and shook off his hand.

"Anakin, they're right. He's going to be in surgery for a long while. His wounds are, well, extensive. General Kenobi will be heavily sedated for a long while when he comes out of surgery." The 'if' he kept to himself. He had seen men die of far less serious injuries, but they weren't Jedi Masters. He had begun to think the older Jedi was well nigh invincible, and he wasn't about to change his mind until he had to.

No matter the healers doleful faces or dire prognosis.

No droid was going to tell him the odds were against it. They didn't know Obi-Wan Kenobi. The odds never fazed him – somehow he persevered, no matter the odds.

"I've already told these medical droids that I'm not leaving - do I have to argue with you, too?" Anakin snapped.

"Anakin. When he wakes up, that's when you need to be here. Get some rest, at least until he's out of surgery. There's nothing you can do for him just sitting here, right?"

"I'm not leaving," Anakin growled, his mouth set in a tight line that meant nothing, no argument, would reach him. "I can't leave him, Cody. Not knowing what shape he's in - what the surgeons say - I can't leave."

Understanding all too well, Cody dropped a hand on the young Jedi's shoulder. He felt no different.

"Okay, Anakin," he said softly. "We'll stay until we hear from the surgeons, okay? When we know he's resting comfortably - you'll get some rest, right? You can't do him any good, just sitting by his bedside, getting all worn out with worry while he's sedated. Save your strength until he's awake; he'll need you then. Okay?"

The young Jedi's shoulders slumped and he nodded in weary agreement. He blinked back tears and fumbled for a seat, to slowly sink into it and bury his face in his hands. Cody looked at him, eyes full of compassion, and sat by his side, rubbing his own eyes wearily.

The silent vigil continued.

Anakin's head snapped up as he sensed one of the surgeons step outside the surgery into the hallway beyond the swing doors. The man took a deep breath and bowed his shoulders, taking a few more deep breaths, slowly shaking his head and rubbing his hand across his forehead. Anakin stiffened; his hands clutched at Cody's arms. The healer looked their way and straightened his shoulders as his eyes filled with compassion.

"Oh, Force no," Anakin whispered. "No, no…no."


	6. Love Alone Can't Save Him

The healer pushed through the door and faced the two men. "He's made it this far. He's a fighter. I wouldn't have thought - well, he's still in surgery. I thought you would like to know."

"What's the full extent of his injuries?" Anakin spit out the question. The surgeon managed a tired smile.

"It would be faster to tell you what's not damaged. I've rarely seen anyone with such severe injuries - never anyone alive."

"But he is going to be all right?" Anakin asked. He felt Cody's fingers dig into his shoulder. He sensed the healer wished to avoid his eyes, but tired brown eyes stared anyway into cold blue eyes; the healer slowly shook his head.

"I really can't say. The odds are against it. But he's made it this far, much to my surprise. If he survives surgery…if he makes it through the next several hours, well, then his chances are somewhat improved. I'm sorry; I wish I could give you better news. But, you should be prepared for the worst." He sighed, added gently, "No, I don't think he'll make it. The injuries are just too severe, he lost a lot of blood, and - well, his heart is struggling mightily – we had to, ah, help it along, several times."

He thought it kinder not to mention the two times it had started beating erratically and had all but stopped. That last time…he drew his lips together. They thought for sure they had lost him, then.

Cody bit his lips and shook his head in sorrow, as Anakin whirled to lean into the wall, shoulders shaking as he fought to hold back a sob. With one hand on the Jedi's shoulder, Cody nodded to the healer, who looked at them with sorrowful eyes before turning to re-enter surgery.

"Come, Anakin," Cody said gently, laying one hand on the young man's arm. "You're exhausted." Anakin choked back his tears; he was too worn out to resist. He swallowed hard, and nodded. Cody clapped him on the back, and followed Anakin down the hall way, and personally escorted Anakin to his quarters. Rubbing his eyes, he wondered if he should stay with Anakin, but he could tell the young man needed to face this alone. Besides, he still had things to do and men to check on.

"We'll be notified, sir, if there's any change…call me, if you need me." He watched, shaking his head as Anakin nodded, and moved slowly into his room, his movements slow, not at all like his usual brisk stride. _He's taking this awfully hard_, Cody thought. _Can't_ _say as I blame him. The general's a pretty special man, all right_.

Anakin slumped into a seat and buried his head in his hands, but he just couldn't sit still, so he got up and started pacing. Torn between grief and worry, Anakin wanted to beat against something, anything he could rage against, but caught a glimpse of himself in a glass - mouth down turned, eyes feverish with emotion, and his clothing dirty and covered in blood. Obi-Wan's blood.

His mouth tightened in a grim line. Suddenly, all he wanted was to get the blood off him, get clean, scour away all his pain and fear. He stalked into the refresher and couldn't get out of the stained clothes quickly enough.

He scrubbed hard, lost in a frenzy of washing, until the cool water finally brought him back to himself, to find he had scrapped his skin raw. He leaned his head against the shower wall, and choked back sobs, his body shaking as the water continued to run over his head and down his back. The water washed the suds off him, but it didn't wash away his grief.

When he regained control, he dried off and dressed, and left the room without a look at the discarded clothing. He could not face them; they spoke of his dying master. Spoke words he would not hear.

Wearily glancing at his chrono, he brightened a little. He should be able to reach his wife, Padme, at this hour. It was early morning, on Coruscant. He desperately needed to talk to her, unburden himself of his fears. That was something he definitely would not have been able to do, sitting at an unconscious man's bedside. Trust Obi-Wan, somehow the Jedi would know. And no one, no one at all, was going to know of his marriage.

The long range comlink was in Obi-Wan's vacant quarters. Anakin quietly slipped into the empty room, neat and tidy as always, showing little of its occupant's vibrant personality. It was no different in Obi-Wan's quarters at the Temple; his personality left imprints on people, not places.

No, about the only thing that marked the man's presence was his cloak, this one his spare, prone to be just discarded anywhere. He went through more cloaks in a standard year than Yoda had in six hundred, according to the Temple's supply Jedi. A quirk in an otherwise neat and tidy personality, just like - and then Anakin saw it.

It was a partially drunk cup of tea, half hidden under a seat, put down and long forgotten. Anakin forced himself to walk over and pick it up. He was always following Obi-Wan around his quarters and picking up discarded tea cups. What if this was the last tea cup he would ever fish out of a half hidden spot? He sank into the seat, holding the cup and staring at it. A stupid tea cup, of all things.

He clenched his hand and prepared to dash it against one wall…

... .and then carefully got up and brought it over to the sink and rinsed it clean, putting it aside for Obi-Wan to use when he returned. Passing a hand over his eyes to wipe the hot tears away, he returned to the main room and thumbed on the long range comm. Anakin left the vid signal off until he had confirmation that it was indeed Padme at the other end, and that she was alone. He then thumbed on the video and stared wistfully at his beautiful wife, hair yet unbound and clad in a morning robe.

"Padme," he whispered with a growl of longing in his voice.

"Anakin," her reply was warm, and her soft laughter twinkled between the planets and space separating them. She suddenly seemed to realize something was very wrong.

"My love - what's wrong, Anakin?" She stared at him, eyes searching his face for a clue.

He should have known she would sense something was up. She knew his expressions; she had seen his tense posture and clenched hand. She knew it would not be good news that prompted his call.

Suddenly she seemed to realize it was more than just bad news, as a hand flew to cover her mouth. Only something dreadful would take the life right out of his sharp eyes and hoarsen that voice; cause that boyish face to crease in pain that wasn't physical.

"Anakin, tell me. Please. What's happened? I know you're okay - you would never call me to tell me you were hurt. It's bad, isn't it - has something happened to Obi-Wan?" Her eyes were wide with unspoken fear.

"It's…it's, yes, it's about Obi-Wan -." He would not admit that he might be dying. Denying the words might deny the deed. No, Obi-Wan would not die - could not die. People he loved could not die on him. He wouldn't allow it. Ever again. First Qui-Gon, then his mother. He would do whatever it would take to deny Death his loved ones. To his shame, he felt his lips quiver.

Her eyes softened and she leaned forward, gently demanding. "Tell me, Anakin. It must be dreadful news if you're calling me to tell me about it. I'm here, my love. Tell me…is he…?" she couldn't finish the thought, could only stand frozen anticipating words she did not want to hear.

"He's badly hurt, Padme. He's in surgery...I thought he was dead when I got to his side. Padme - the surgeons just shake their heads and murmur, and say that he's still alive. That I have to be glad he's made it this far, that each hour he's alive makes it that much more likely he'll be alive another. He's in surgery, has been for…forever, it seems."

"Oh, I'm so sorry! My poor Anakin…poor Obi-Wan. Anakin, next to you, he's the most stubborn man, Jedi or not, I've ever met. Outside of the Senate, that is. Tell him you need him to live; that man will do anything for you, you know."

Anakin winced; he wasn't quite as convinced of that as Padme. He'd been on the wrong end of Obi-Wan's gentle chiding too many times to quite believe that.

"He's badly injured, Padme. I'm scared." He admitted it. "The Hero Without Fear," was frightened half out of his wits.

"Oh, Anakin." Her eyes showed her distress. "If it helps at all, know I love you. I'll be here for you, anytime you need to talk. Is there anything I can do - should I contact the Temple?"

Anakin shook his head. "I need to do that. They would wonder why it was you that contacted them. Padme, just talking to you helps. I miss you so much. I just want to be with you, I want to forget everything but the two of us."

"I miss you, too, my love. Let me know how Obi-Wan is doing…you know he's as dear a friend to me as he is to you. Tell him that Padme will throw a delegation of politicians at him if he doesn't get back on his feet soon." She tried to giggle, knowing how fond Obi-Wan was of politicians, but what escaped was a choked sob.

The two crooned lovingly at each other until Padme guiltily cleared her throat and let Anakin know by the tone of her voice that she was no longer alone. Anakin found a smile in him as he ended the call. He was less tense and scared now, but lonelier than ever for his wife.

He was about to comm the Temple, when he heard a knock on his door. He stiffened, and then relaxed as he realized who it was, and there was no urgency in it.

Cody allowed himself a small smile as he held up a hand to forestall the young Jedi's questions.

"I just got word - he's out of surgery and holding his own. No, Anakin, he's heavily sedated. There's no chance that he'll wake up anytime soon. Take this chance to get some rest. If there's any change in his condition, we'll be notified immediately."

Anakin closed his eyes in relief. Only his training kept him from sagging against the door jam. Once he felt he had himself under control, he said determinedly, "Let's go!"

Cody crossed his arms and stared at him. "He's not awake, Anakin. You plan to wear yourself out sitting by a man who would have no idea you were there? Take this chance to get some rest. I thought we already discussed this."

"I have to be with him," he snapped. "Do I have to argue with you?"

"Anakin. When he wakes up, that's when you need to be here. There's nothing you can do for him just sitting by his side when he's asleep, right? Just sitting there, watching and worrying, hour after long hour thinking…."

Cody was careful not to grin. Anakin was not the type to just sit. That was the reason Obi-Wan had been wont to call his apprentice "Always on the go, Anakin," or just plain "Action Ani."

Anakin bit back his instinctive response. Cody was right. He hated to admit it. He swallowed hard, and nodded. Cody clapped him on the shoulder and left. Anakin had agreed to rest, but he needed to do one more thing first.

Letting his fears for Obi-Wan and frustration at the war that separated him from his wife fuel him, he comm'd the Temple. The duty Jedi would not patch him through to any of the Council members, advising the Council was meeting in session.

Growling, he dropped his news without preamble. "When you give them a message, then, tell them Obi-Wan Kenobi was almost killed today, he just survived surgery, and will be unable to resume his duties."

"Master Kenobi is hurt? I am indeed sorry to hear that," the duty Jedi responded. "I will inform the Council once the session is over; they will be most concerned, too."

"Fine," he ground out through clenched teeth and broke the connection. Let them make the next move. He had made his report; they could not fault him for that.

Sick of worrying, sick of missing his wife, and sick of dealing with imperturbable Jedi, he crawled into his bed. He didn't hesitate to use a sleep suggestion on himself.

"I don't like the way this war keeps dragging on," Mace Windu repeated again, looking at Yoda as they made their way down from the Council chambers. It seemed all they talked about nowadays was war strategy and the latest Senate motions to give more and more power to the Chancellor.

"Terrible it is, that Jedi are now warriors," Yoda grunted. "A way out of this, I do not yet see. Battles are all we debate. What Jedi we have left, what Jedi we commit to what front. Good, this is not."

"Ten thousand strong we once were. Respected. Now, the grumbling includes grumbling about the Jedi and our inability to end this war. Guardians of Peace, we're supposed to be. Now we lead wars. Nothing has been the same since Geonosis."

"Started long before that, it did," Yoda shook his head sorrowfully. He was about to say more, when his comlink buzzed.

"Yes, yes, news you have for me?" Yoda listened; a frown creeping over his face. His ears drooped. Mace waited patiently. "No more news, he gave? Yes, understand I do. Thank you."

He turned and looked at Mace. "Bad news, it is. Terrible injuries, Obi-Wan has suffered. In Skore Med Center, he is. Duty Jedi reports Padawan Skywalker left this message. Poor is the prognosis. If lucky we are, a long recovery for Obi-Wan, he says."

Mace shook his head wearily. "At least he is still alive, and that is good news." He looked down at Yoda, tried to smile. "Since when did you start believing in luck?"

Yoda stopped and leaned on his stick, turning to look Mace in the eye. "Luck, the Force, it matters not. As long as it is with Obi-Wan. Much need of him, we have. Agree, do you not?"

"Of course. We've already agreed he's one of the top candidates for the next Council opening. Perhaps we should evacuate him back here, where we can oversee his recovery and make sure he gets the best treatment available."

"Healers should speak to him when next young Skywalker reports. Leave a message with the duty Jedi, I shall," Yoda murmured. "Decide if recall team, we should, or send replacements. Status of mission young Skywalker did not report."

Neither Jedi bothered to comment on the last. They were in unspoken agreement: Padawan Skywalker had let his emotions overcome his duty once again; his focus was only on his master when it should be on his mission.

"If Obi-Wan is unable to resume his duties during his recovery, we don't want to leave his padawan left too long unsupervised. He already thinks he's ready to handle things on his own, but he doesn't have the discipline yet. I know Obi-Wan is concerned about this, and hopes the boy grows into it. Obi-Wan had more control over himself at fourteen than Anakin does at twenty. Attach him to another team, should we?"

"Talk on this, we should, once we know more." Yoda pronounced upon reflection. Mace nodded. The two continued their slow walk.


	7. Luck, The Force, it Matters Not

Even with the sleep suggestion, Anakin did not sleep well. His mind kept picturing Obi-Wan lying on the ground, all but torn to pieces, bleeding and pale, open eyes staring sightlessly and the mouth twisted in a grimace of pain. Obi-Wan collapsed in a pool of blood. Tears of pain, mixed with dirt, sliding down his cheeks. Obi-Wan dead, never to grin affectionately at him, scowl in disapproval, or nod gentle encouragement. Never again to hear that oh-so-proper voice with its clipped Coruscanti accent.

Those scenes were followed, always, by the face of the healer coming towards him. He had been so certain that he was coming to tell them Obi-Wan had died in surgery. The healer had tried to be kind, but prepare them for the worst. The truth was, the healer held little hope, but had tried to offer a small tendril of hope, something for Anakin to cling to as long as he could.

Without Obi-Wan, his father, brother, mentor - what anchored him to the Jedi Order? What would prevent him from leaving to be with Padme, openly? He didn't want to face the questions, or the answers. Now was not the time to think of himself. But focusing on Obi-Wan didn't help; it just paralyzed his heart.

When morning came, he was almost relieved to be awake. His fears were no less, but they were fears seen in daylight, not horrors in the dark. It didn't make them less real, but it did make them easier to face. Easier; but not easy.

Grabbing a ration bar, he dressed and hurried to the Med Center, where he was directed to the Surgical Recovery room. The healer was there, studying a chart and looked up as Anakin slowly entered the room. He had been in a rush to get there, but now that he was actually there, his steps seemed to slow involuntarily, almost afraid of what he'd see.

"How is he? He's, merciful Force, he looks terrible," he whispered; his voice seemed loud in the room, the soft hum of the machines the only sound unless one leaned close to hear the soft exhalations of the injured man. In this quiet room, all was hushed, even the lights.

The Jedi had no more color than the white sheet draped around him, he was swathed in a myriad of bandages, and he was hooked up to numerous monitors. His face was pinched with pain, the skin around his eyes dark and bruised looking. Smile lines had been replaced by creases of pain, and his breathing was shallow and uneven.

Anakin's heart contracted with pain at the sight. He only knew his master as a vital, vibrant being with a quick grin and dry wit, or studious and reflective in his more common, reflective moments. But this – this quiet, suffering man – he didn't know this man, and didn't want to.

He stood, frozen in shock and pain, trying to absorb what he saw, and all he saw was an injured man. Not a Jedi.

Somehow, he had always thought of Obi-Wan as more than just a man, a human being, for Obi-Wan had always been more than that to him. Now, he was almost less than that, for a man breathed, and moved, and showed signs of life. And this man did not.

This wasn't Obi-Wan, his master. It couldn't be.

Yet it was.

His master lay unmoving, a thing of flesh and bandages and machines, even his very Force presence so muted it almost didn't register. He lay with a leg and both arms on top of the covers, his one leg encased, as was his left arm, in a cast. The other arm was bandaged and was hooked to an IV dripping fluids into his veins. A bandage covered his skull above an ear.

Anakin gently lifted the sheet, and saw that the Jedi's chest was haphazardly crossed with bandages marking surgical incisions, leaving little in the way of exposed skin; it seemed all to be bruised, bandaged or hooked up to tubes or monitors.

In that silent room, nothing seemed to move except the slow march of indicator lights: the monitors' etchings of the Jedi's life processes – a line, a peak, a line, a peak indicating each slow beat of his heart. Other monitors measured his respiration, his temperature and other life signs that Anakin couldn't decipher.

They were all important measures, though. They were the sum and parcel of the man.

"He's hanging on," the healer said softly, glancing sympathetically at the young Jedi. "He has no right to be alive, but - he is. Every hour that he clings to life improves his chances. We're doing all we can for him, but it's up to him now."

"What do you mean?" Anakin all but stuttered. The healer came over, took his arm and led him to a seat next to the bed. Anakin quietly sat, his eyes never leaving that beloved face, so familiar and dear to him: the proud brow so often furrowed with his thoughts and now so still; the eyes that crinkled with the slight smile that was the Jedi's usual grin. Now the eyes were closed and the lips silent. There was nothing but his breathing to show he was alive.

Even the familiar background sense through the bond that Obi-Wan was near, that was always present regardless of the physical distance between them, was muted to something that only seemed an echo of a memory within Anakin's own mind, leaving him to feel more bereft and empty without his mentor's vibrant presence. The pale figure in the bed seemed impossibly distant, though only a hands breath separated them.

The healer chose his words carefully. "There's only so much we can do. If he has the will to fight, he has a chance. I've seen beings survive terrible injuries, and seen others injured far less, not."

"How can he fight? He's so weak," Anakin almost moaned.

"Even when the body is weak, the mind can be quite strong. I suspect this is especially true for Jedi. Quite frankly, I think that's one reason he's still here. I've never had to treat a Jedi before, so I'm not personally familiar with Jedi recuperative powers."

"He's pretty strong minded," Anakin agreed, thinking back to difficult situations that Obi-Wan had handled. He had never seen the Jedi flustered or at a loss – except that one time Anakin had seemed to challenge his master. He flushed with the memory: he had been overwhelmed with seeing Padme for the first time as an adult and had been trying to impress her with his maturity. He had inadvertently questioned his master's judgment and been rebuked publicly, in front of Padme! Shamed, he had challenged his master. Obi-Wan had been astonished and nearly speechless for a few seconds.

Anakin still squirmed at the memory of his behavior, though it had not been intentional on his part. He had fumed about it for days, though Obi-Wan had seemed to let it go within moments. He had known he had been forgiven when Obi-Wan unbent enough to inquire about his sleeplessness and the dreams that caused it.

He knew now he should have confided the content of those dreams to his master, but he had never spoken of the death and pain he saw in them, so his master had assumed he merely missed his mother. Obi-Wan had been horrified, after, when he knew what Anakin had dreamed - what had happened - and been quite understanding with his padawan's occasional lapses in emotional control after his mother's death.

Other than that one time, when faced with a difficult situation, Obi-Wan had either charged ahead or regrouped, but always, he let difficulties bend him rather than break him.

He wondered what Obi-Wan's reaction would be should he learn of his actions with – his mind shied away from the thought, slaughter of - the Sandpeople or his marriage to Padme – and he firmly put those out of mind: the one to shame and the other to secrecy. Neither event would touch his mind around his master. Obi-Wan was too perceptive, even unconscious.

"It's okay to touch him," the healer said with a smile as Anakin reached out, only to hesitate. "I'll leave you with him. Call me if anything changes."

Absently nodding his head in agreement, Anakin pulled his chair closer and laid his hand across Obi-Wan's forehead, seeking the truth of what the healer had said. He closed his eyes, used the Force to reach within, sensing bones fused back together, internal organs repaired. No wonder the surgery had taken so long. Obi-Wan had been all but shattered, and practically rebuilt, from what he sensed.

Under the sedative, Obi-Wan's mind was quiet and empty. Anakin was careful to do nothing more than to brush against it; it would be very sensitive still. All he dared to do was pour love and strength into the battered body. It was a gift he freely gave; all he wanted in return was to have his master return to him.

_You promised, Master_, he reached back into memories, from a time when he was young and scared. He had been nine and hopeful for a better life, for the Jedi Qui-Gon Jinn had freed him from slavery. He had taken him away from his mother to make him a Jedi, and then he had been killed. Qui-Gon had died at the hand of a Sith, entrusting him to his own padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi himself.

He had resented the young Jedi at first; wished in his heart of hearts that Qui-Gon had been the one to live and Obi-Wan the one to die, for was not he the Chosen One, the one Qui-Gon wished to train? He had even been willing to put aside his long-time padawan for he seen greater promise in the young boy than the young man!

The young Jedi, knighted for his defeat of the Sith, had become his master instead: the inferior now master to the superior. Obi-Wan had known, Anakin was sure, of his padawan's resentment, but had not held it against him. They had never spoken of it, but his master had gone out of his way to reassure his padawan of the care he would take of him.

His heart twisted within him at the memory of some of Obi-Wan's first words to him, words he had clutched onto and always remembered. His heart wanted to throw those words back at this broken and battered apparition of a man, who was now breaking that long ago promise to him. He found himself whispering, as if the words would make the silent man wake, to keep that vow – to prove he wasn't mortal and fallible.

_You promised you would always be here to protect me, until I could protect myself. Why aren't you here, when I need you? I can't protect myself from this pain of seeing you lie here neither alive nor dead. Why aren't you here, to protect me from seeing you like this! You promised!_

He didn't look up as the door opened. He knew who it was.

"He looks pretty banged up," Cody said quietly, coming to stand beside him and looking down at the still form, his face stoic though inwardly he sorrowed.

"Yes; you should see him from the inside," Anakin answered. He looked up to see Cody's startled look, quickly added, "I used the Force to sense what kind of shape he's in."

"Ah," Cody nodded. "Did you contact the Temple, sir?"

"Last night. I left a message; the Council was in session and wouldn't take my call," he said bitterly. "They haven't contacted me yet. They don't seem to care that Obi-Wan may not live. Damn, uncaring Jedi! Damn their detachment!"

His words burst from him in hot, angry bursts. He was dangerously near to rage, of losing control. He looked at Obi-Wan, but even his distress didn't reach his master, awaken him to calm and comfort his padawan. Anakin drew a deep breath, shuddered. He continued, more quietly.

"They're all so emotionless. Even Obi-Wan – sometimes just when I think he might actually care deeply about something, he goes all Jedi on me. He's almost as bad as the rest of them." Cody glanced at him, surprised.

"I beg to differ. Jedi don't often display and never act on emotion, but I'd hardly say they have none. Actually, I think they have a lot, and that's why they're so controlled. After all this time, I can read the boss pretty well, and though he doesn't show it much, believe me, he's got as much emotion in him as you. Just more restrained."

"Sure," Anakin grunted, not at all convinced. "Real demonstrative lot, they are. Always bowing, never hugging, it's like they avoid any real contact." _Always criticizing, never praising, never approving_…his mind added to his litany of Jedi inadequecies.

Cody knew enough not to argue back. In his experience, the Jedi were physically restrained, but then how many times had he seen the General lay a hand on the young Jedi's arm, or clap him on the back? Most folks he knew generally didn't go around hugging other folks, anyway.

And – emotionless? Didn't Anakin ever see the approval in his master's eyes? Joy, amusement, bemusement - Cody could see all those emotions in them; why couldn't Anakin? Jedi just internalized their emotions. He knew that, so why didn't Anakin?

Just what behavior did Anakin expect? Did he only see the frustration and worries and admonishments that were by now legendary about the pair? Their bantering, mutual rescues of each other, and concern for each other were just as legendary.

He shook his head, and leaned over the injured man; gently laid a hand on Obi-Wan's own, lying limply by his side. "We're pulling for you, boss," he told the Jedi firmly, hoping the words would somehow reach the man for whom he had so much respect.

"Master, we received word through Master Yoda that Master Kenobi has been injured on Skore," the duty healer swung his chair around and called over to the Head Healer, Master Vari V'keny, who was studying a datapad nearby.

"What information do you have?" she asked sharply, looking up in surprise and dismay. A sharp and practical human female, her short reddish brown hair waved back from a high brow and curled around her ears, a simple style that keep her hair away from her face. Master V'keny was attractive without being pretty.

Her brown eyes were full of curiosity and life, warm and witty, though it was a dry sense of humor. It was a trait she shared with one of her frequent patients, Obi-Wan Kenobi. She had just been out of training when the young boy had first been her patient, and over the years, accidents and misfortunes had often brought the two together.

"Very little. Apparently his padawan called and left a message. Master Kenobi is in surgery at Skore Med Center. His injuries are very severe and the prognosis uncertain. Master Yoda got the message through the duty Jedi, and asked that we be notified and stand by for further communications

Master V'keny clucked and shook her head. "That poor boy. I'd like us to oversee his recovery if he hangs on. We've lost all too many Jedi at various locations; I wish we could have treated most of them here. What do you know about Skore Med Center?"

"Not much," the duty healer admitted, punching buttons and pulling up data. "Let's see, well, Skore itself is several days away via hyperspace, popular vacation spot, successful economy... well, that should translate into a good medical facility." He flashed a grin at Master V'keny, who nodded slowly in agreement.

"Certifications...let's see, hmm, yes, member of ..., rating 1C, trauma facilities - very good, yes, it looks like Master Kenobi is in pretty good hands there. Fair mix of both medical droids and sentient healers, mainly handle orthopedic injuries and normal illnesses, less experienced in internal medicine...treat a fair number of humanoids. No information on treating Jedi, but I wouldn't expect that in the public records."

Several healers had drifted nearby and had been listening to the conversation. They all looked serious; not only were they sorry to hear of yet another Jedi hurt in the wars, but they all knew Master Kenobi quite well. The Jedi had been a frequent visitor to the medical ward, either for himself, in company with his master Qui-Gon Jinn, or with his own padawan, Anakin Skywalker. Both teams had often pulled the most dangerous assignments, though they were as likely to be injured in strange circumstances unrelated to their missions, or ill from some disease they caught on various planets.

One healer in particular looked distressed. A Mon Calamarian with large silver eyes, Bant Eerin had grown up with Obi-Wan and was one of his closest friends. Somewhat shy and reserved under normal circumstances, she could be quite fierce in protecting her friends and patients. She edge forward shyly.

"I'm sorry, I missed most everything but I heard Obi-Wan's name mentioned," she said softly.

Master V'keny turned to look at her, and taking her arm, led her away from the small group.

"Bant, we received word that he was badly injured on Skore," she started gently and filled in her on what they knew. Bant's eyes filled with tears; she bit her lip. Master V'keny patted her gently on the arm. "I know you two are good friends, Bant. This news has shocked us all. If you need a few minutes to center yourself, take them."

Bant nodded and blinked. Her tears would not help. She straightened up, shook her head and offered a small smile. Busying herself with her duties would distract her.

"I'm fine...I'll get back to work," she said firmly and returned to her patients.

However, as soon as she could, she found a quiet corner where she could hide and absorb the information. She had lost many friends during the course of the war; she had thought she was hardened to loss. But this news had hit her harder than all the other losses combined; she had known Obi-Wan all her life and counted him as one of her closest friends. She couldn't imagine life without Obi-Wan in it; he had been friend and protector, and he was one of the kindest and gentlest beings she knew.

"Keep me informed of any updates we receive on Master Kenobi," the healer told the duty healer, returning to his side.

Anakin grew increasingly restless as hours dragged into days. He stood at a corridor window, arms behind his back and mind unfocused. Inside the hushed room behind him, time itself had seemed to freeze and each minute, each hour, each day was unchanged from that which had gone before, though within it a man struggled for his very life. There was no sound but the soft hum and quiet beeps of machines in the room, the very machinery of life artificial rather than a thing of flesh and bone, of breath and circulation.

The Jedi still had not shown any signs of regaining consciousness. He simply lay, oblivious to Anakin's silent pleas to wake up, to reassure his padawan that he would soon be back at his side, and to give comfort by his very presence that all was not yet spinning out of control in the galaxy.

Anakin stood at a corridor window, hands behind his back, staring at the buildings nestled amongst the parks and streams, watching the air traffic fly past. Compared to Coruscant, this was a backwater town; its air lanes more empty than congested. He hated it here, whereas at first it had been mere dislike.

It was cold.

Cold on so many levels.

Physically cold.

Mentally cold.

Emotionally cold.

An early season snowfall had dusted the brown grasses and yellow-gold trees with a layer of crystalline ice crystals that refracted the sun into tiny multi-colored sparks of light. He hated its sharp edged beauty, for it mocked him, this view of shimmering ice and dancing rainbows that his master would have quietly gazed on with tranquil eyes, and inwardly delighted in.

They were fractured shards of crystal that numbed his heart along with his limbs, for the stalactites formed of rivulets of melting, dripping snow were brittle and sharp edged. Brittle, like the strand of life anchoring Obi-Wan in his sterile environment to the machines that sustained his life as if the man himself had been transformed from warm flesh and blood to a thing of cold wires and machines.

He was separated by the empty icy wastes of silence from the warm presence of his mentor, and by the cold empty vacuum of space from the loving arms of his wife. He was floundering in ice and emptiness, with icicles reaching to steal the life from his mind and soul.

He had let Cody and Major Jaysson report to the Skorean Council on the success of their mission, begging off with the excuse that he couldn't leave his master's side. The Council had been most understanding. Anakin didn't care if Cody or Jaysson went into detail about his abrupt departure from the scene with the evac ship or not – any true politician only cared about the final result, not the method. There may very well be villainy afoot as it related to the Council, to potential mining, but he no longer cared.

The Council had wanted the droids destroyed and the insurgency broken. The destruction of the heavy duty artillery blasters in the avalanche had finally broken the spirit of the last of the Skoreans, and those not killed had been rounded up and were soon to be put on trial.

Holonet news showed the droid parts littering the once pristine meadow, and holopics of the dead and wounded had shocked the Skoreans. Just the possibility that mining interests had fueled the revolt had united the planet behind the government, and the Council was content with the results.

Anakin knew Obi-Wan would be unhappy that Anakin had again let his heart overrule his duty. By the time he recovered – there was no _if_, for he would not let himself think there would be any other outcome - the events would be far enough in the past that his master would probably just scold him with a long lecture about a Jedi's "duty."

As with most of Obi-Wan's well-meaning lectures, he would just half-listen and nod dutifully once in a while in pretense that he was listening. For he didn't care. About any of it.

For none of it mattered.

Not while Obi-Wan lay injured, no more alive than dead. He had to recover, for Anakin could not bear to lose him. Anakin could not save him. The healers could not save him. The Force could not save him.

Only Obi-Wan could save himself, if he fought for life hard enough, long enough, and wanted it enough.

For only one thing mattered.

Obi-Wan's survival.

"News of Obi-Wan, have we had?" Yoda asked, his hoverchair coming up beside Mace Windu as the two Jedi headed for the Council chambers. Mace looked over at Yoda and raised an eyebrow.

"I have heard nothing; I assume from your question that you have not, either," Mace stated. "I assume in this case no news is good news, but still, this is worrisome. It has been a number of days since Skywalker contacted us – I thought perhaps you had heard something, but of course, you would have informed me if you had."

"News we should have had by now," Yoda said gravely, his ears lowering and curling. He reached to his comlink and contacted the Healer's Ward.

"Yes, Master Yoda," Master V'keny answered.

"Informed, you were, that Master Kenobi was hurt on Skore." It was not a question, for Yoda knew that his message to the Healers would be on the duty notes. Not just that, but that Obi-Wan had been too frequent a visitor there for word of mouth not to have spread among the healers.

"I have," she acknowledged simply, though she raised an eyebrow in question. "Have you news for us?"

"Hoping, I was, that news for me you had," Yoda replied. "Heard nothing from Padawan Skywalker or Skore Medical Center, then, you have not?"

"No, I have not. We shall initiate contact, if you wish."

"Do so, please. Wish, the Council does, to find out if Master Kenobi can be evacuated to Coruscant. Gravely injured, he was reported to be. Oversee his recovery, we would like. Recommend Coruscant Trauma Center, would you?"

"Well," the healer replied cautiously. "He shouldn't be moved unless his condition is stable, and if he's stable, we probably can offer just as good treatment here as at the Trauma Center - we're almost as well-equipped and certainly with this war have experience in trauma cases. I'll have someone contact Skore Medical Center and request a copy of Obi-Wan's medical report."

"Good," Yoda approved, looking at Mace who nodded in agreement. "Suggest, I do, that your healer contact Padawan Skywalker directly, too."

"As you wish, Master Yoda," Master V'keny acknowledged. She looked at the duty Healer and they exchanged glances. "I'd like a surgeon to contact Skore," she decided. "Have Trauma Specialist Surgeon T'koth contact them both."


	8. Must the Good Die Young?

Obi-Wan had lain as one all but dead for days, and in that time Anakin had barely left his side. He knew his master would do the same for him; had done so already. The nights when he was young and had nightmares, his master would come to his side and sit beside him, often taking the boy into his arms and rocking him, before tucking him back into bed and sit by his side telling funny stories, so that his padawan would fall asleep with a smile on his lips. Obi-Wan was always there, and now Anakin realized, he had thought that he always would be.

As Anakin sat absently staring at Obi-Wan, his comlink buzzed for attention. For a minute Anakin was tempted to ignore it. If the Temple wanted to wait this long, they could wait a while longer.

He sensed Cody's disapproving stare, and sighed. Better to get this over with. He responded. To his surprise, it was one of the Temple's healers. He had thought it might be Master Yoda, or another Council member.

He only knew Master T'koth by sight. He was a skilled surgeon, helped by his four slender arms, each with six long fingers. All too often, his surgical skills had been required by battered and bruised Jedi - casualties of the Clone Wars.

"Padawan Skywalker," the healer said courteously. "As you had not called back, the Council asked that I contact you. We had expected another communication from you before this. I understand Master Kenobi was in surgery and his condition was considered to be life-threatening."

"Is," Anakin corrected. "They are surprised he's still alive. The healer said they've done all they can, but it's up to him now."

"Ah," the healer nodded. "It is that serious."

"By the Force, yes, it is," Anakin couldn't help snapping. "He was dead; I know he was, before he was even brought here. I had to do mouth to mouth resuscitation on him, man, his heart wasn't even beating. He was in hours of surgery, and he's hooked up to a million machines." Nor had he since then so much as twitched a muscle or shown signs of awakening. Anakin found he had to blink and swallow hard to keep his tears away.

The healer didn't look upset with Anakin's outburst, though his lids slowly closed over his eyes as he absorbed the information. "Hmm, yes, it would not be wise to move him until his condition stabilizes. I will report to the Council. I will be requesting a copy of Master Kenobi's medical records to review. We will be transmitting his medical history, also. As you know, his file is rather large."

The healer coughed. Anakin glared. This was no time for humor, good or bad.

"Umm, yes. Expect to be contacted again, Padawan. Thank you."

Anakin rolled his eyes as he looked to Cody. "See what I mean?"

"Master V'keny, we've received the medical report from Skore," Surgeon T'koth waved an arm to get the healer's attention as she passed by. The healer immediately turned and came to peer over the surgeon's shoulder to read the report for herself as the surgeon summarized it.

"Oh, dear Force, that poor boy is terribly injured," she sighed. She shook her head absently, remembering her first sight of Obi-Wan, not quite four, shaking with fever and trying not to show his fear at being in a strange place with needles poking him.

He had tried hard not to cry, but when she had tried to soothe him, he had flung himself into her arms and let her rock him, hiccupping tears into her shoulder. The Dinubian flu had touched many younglings that year, and Obi-Wan was one of several who had had such terrible reactions that the healers had worried for their lives.

"Lucky to be alive," the surgeon added, studying the report. "Even I'm surprised he didn't succumb to his injuries long before this."

The healer turned to look at the surgeon and managed a sad smile. "If anyone could survive those injuries, it would be Obi-Wan. He'd be more likely to be killed by a splinter in his finger than mere injuries - he's too stubborn to die when any other being would long since have. How long do you think before we can move him here?"

Master T'koth merely snorted. "Easily a month or more were it anyone else. Master Kenobi - maybe a few days, more likely at least a week or two. He hasn't regained consciousness yet, according to this report. His padawan was quite worried about him when I spoke to him, with reason I will add."

The healer nodded absently, thinking ahead. She activated her comlink and called Bant Eerin. "Bant, I'm putting you in charge of coordinating care for Obi-Wan and moving him when his condition is stable enough. Keep in touch with Skore Medical and the Council to coordinate the timing."

"Of course, Master," Bant's voice came back over the comlink. This was more than she had dared hope. When the news had first filtered through the Healers Ward, it had been all that she could do to hold back her tears. Only her Jedi and healers training had kept her calm, though she had not dared to speak in case her voice wavered. Obi-Wan was seriously hurt, perhaps dying.

She wondered if Master V'keny had chosen her by chance, or knowing how close she was to Obi-Wan, had chosen her for both their sakes.

Fingers twisted in chestnut hair, Anakin brought his lips down softly onto a warm and welcoming mouth. The kiss deepened, and he shuddered with the feelings it awoke. Arms welcomed him into her embrace - he was lost in kisses - he was...he was jolted awake and upright before he quite understood what was happening. He had been having the most wonderful dream of holding his wife in his arms. He wanted to howl in outrage - couldn't he even find refuge in his dreams - he protested the unfairness of it all, the pain - the pain?

A terrible pain was assaulting him. He lay dazed, unable to move under its suffocating weight, struggling to realize what had happened. Pain, twisting his insides, bouncing around his skull, pulsating through every inch of him. It was coming through his bond with Obi-Wan; he had slept with his barriers lowered, hoping to sense when Obi-Wan began to awake. Or to forever slip away.

Anakin meant to be there, whichever it was.

Obi-Wan was still clinging to life, but the sheer intensity of this pain could kill him in his weakened condition. Anakin raised his shields tightly, barely taking the time to dress, and raced to the med center.

Reflexes, honed by years of practice - pod racing, flying fighters in battle, racing speeders - allowed him to avoid collisions by swooping, swerving and occasionally aiming right at obstacles in his path. Calls from angry citizens flooded the police, demanding a crazy man be stopped. There was nothing the law could do: no one had been able to describe the demented driver or speeder: they had all been too terrified and diving out of the way.

Droids blocked his path to Obi-Wan, so Anakin pounded on the desk, demanding access to Obi-Wan, ready to push past the nurse droid, when another med droid whirred to a step before him and forbade him to disturb the patient.

"He's in terrible pain," Anakin insisted desperately. "If you don't give him something, it'll kill him."

"He is not responsive," the droid said severely. "He is also heavily sedated."

"He is in pain," Anakin insisted grimly. He pointed to his lightsaber and said slowly and deliberately, emphasizing each word. "He's my Master; I'm his Padawan. We have a bond: that means we can feel what the other feels. I can barely stand his pain myself. If you don't give him something for the pain, I'll use this lightsaber to dismantle you!" The droid quickly backslid and beeped.

"Very well, I will let you see him, but you must not disturb him and must leave right away. He needs rest, not visitors. We have no assurances that he will survive. It is a miracle he is even alive. I am sure I will be deactivated or reprogrammed for allowing you access at all."

The droid led Anakin down a hallway; as they turned a corner, Anakin started to run. A human healer came around another corner, and backed against a hall as the Jedi flew past.

"He insisted that Jedi Master Kenobi was in pain and threatened to dismantle me if I did not let him be reassured that the patient is resting quietly," the droid spoke quickly to the startled Healer, who swung around and followed the Jedi into the room.

Anakin fell to his knees beside the bed, his eyes fixed on Obi-Wan. The pale figure in the bed seemed much smaller than Anakin remembered. He was bone white, matching the bandages he was encased in. He seemed to have shrunk in mere hours. He looked like a broken doll, stuck in an adult's bed.

Obi-Wan's breathing hadn't changed; it was still shallow and uneven, though harsher. He seemed to be whimpering, though the sound was faint and barely audible. Tears sparkled on his lashes. Anakin would have wept, but for his urgent need to spare Obi-Wan as much of that terrible pain as he could.

"You see, he is resting quietly," the droid said. The Healer came over and studied Obi-Wan's face, looked to the frustrated and clearly anxious young Jedi at his side, then turned to check the readouts on some of the instruments hooked up to the unconscious man.

"I tell you he is not - I'll show you!" Carefully, Anakin lowered his shields, bit by bit by bit, until his knees began to buckle and he could barely stand. "Now do you believe me, you tin-plated excuse for a doctor?" he gasped as the sweat gathered around his eyes and he clenched his teeth to keep from crying out.

"We have given him as much Xtyl as is safe," the droid insisted, sounding worried. "We cannot give him more."

"Xtyl! Didn't you check his medical history? He's allergic to it, in fact, to most medicines. He has terrible reactions to most drugs. You must contact the Jedi Temple on Coruscant and ask to speak to Healer Bant Eerin, or any other healer if she is not available. They can tell you what he can tolerate. Please. For your patient's sake." He felt himself sliding to the floor, and tried to raise his shields. He was not in time.

He came to, half lying across the chair in the corner of Obi-Wan's room, with a droid fussing over him. Quickly, he raised his shields high enough to sit upright, high enough to protect himself but as low as he dared, hoping by taking at least some of Obi-Wan's pain, he lessened what the Jedi felt.

The droid was apologetic, speaking quickly and staying well back from Anakin's glare.

"I have contacted your Temple. They confirmed he is having a bad reaction to Xtyl, and the only counter remedy we have will just make him worse, according to Healer Eerin. It seems that his body thinks it is being poisoned, and is trying to shut down - no, no, it won't actually poison him." If a droid could be doleful, this one was.

"Healer Eerin also said that Xytl does not suppress pain for this patient, and we are unable to give him anything for the pain he is experiencing until it is out of his system."

"Why did you give Xtyl without checking for reactions, first?" Anakin snapped.

"It is a standard sedative for humans; it is the drug of choice when a medical history has not been obtained, since so few have reactions to it. It is most unfortunate that your friend is an exception to this. It was also necessary to begin treatment on him before his history could be obtained. Delay of treatment was not an option when he was brought in."

"What does the Temple healer say to do?" Anakin tried hard to speak calmly. This time it was the human Healer who spoke up, his eyes full of regret. He laid a hand on Anakin's arm, only to have it shaken off.

He straightened up and spoke stiffly.

"Wait. When the drug starts to clear from his system, we start with something different. Unfortunately, that will take a few hours. Healer Eerin would like to speak to you, if you are Jedi Anakin Skywalker."

The healer turned and looked down at his patient, slowly shaking his head.

"I am," Anakin agreed. He hated to leave Obi-Wan, but it was Bant on the other end of the comchannel. Obi-Wan's friend. That was the only reason he would leave his master's side. He followed the droid to a small cubicle.

"Anakin, are you okay?" Bant sounded worried.

"Huh - me? I'm fine."

Bant didn't sound convinced. "They told me you had collapsed."

"Oh. That," Anakin laughed, shakily. "I had to prove to them that Obi-Wan was in pain, so I let my shields down a little too low. Obi-Wan is broadcasting through the bond pretty, ah, painfully. They insisted he was sedated and felt nothing."

"Well, they know better now," Bant sounded grim. "That Xtyl they gave him could kill him, especially in the condition he's reported to be in. He's allergic to it. I hope his body can handle it."

"Bant, I'm terribly worried about Obi-Wan. I swear he was dead… he practically died before I could get to him…." To his dismay, his voice cracked and tears came to his eyes.

"Calm down, Anakin," Bant said crisply, but he could hear how worried she was, too.

"Look, the Council wants to evacuate Obi-Wan and get him to the best treatment available, which is here on Coruscant, but he has to be stable before he can be moved. I've already transmitted to the Med Center there his medical history and what drugs he can tolerate - pathetically few, I'm afraid."

"Bant," he found it hard to speak. "I'm so afraid he'll…."

There was silence for a moment, and then Bant's voice came gently, "You, of all people, know just how hard it is to kill Obi-Wan Kenobi."

She didn't tell him that Obi-Wan had pulled off a miracle just surviving the wounds and shock. She had seen the medical report, and she knew the prognosis was bad. Terribly bad.

Anakin stared into space, and whispered, "But he's never been this badly hurt. Oh, Bant, if you could just see him now, you'd wonder if this is the time that someone succeeded. Obi-Wan can be k…killed; I just never believed it until - now." The young Jedi's shoulders shook as he tried to choke back the sobs.

He heard Bant's hiss of indrawn breath, followed by a crisp command as Bant slipped with difficulty back into healer mode.

"There is always hope, Anakin. You have to believe that. He doesn't have much of a chance if he doesn't fight, but he is a fighter. He doesn't give up, whatever the odds. Believe that. Believe in Obi-Wan."

"I…I will." Anakin promised. He sniffled, and rubbed the back of his hand across his nose, only to freeze in mid-motion. Obi-Wan always frowned at him when he caught Anakin doing that. He never said anything, just frowned and shook his head mournfully. It drove Anakin crazy; couldn't Obi-Wan just ignore him?

He had never thought that his dearest wish would be to have Obi-Wan scowling disapprovingly at him. Bant had not noticed his distraction and had kept talking.

"...the best way to stabilize him. You can help speed this up by staying near him, if you can, and taking some of his pain, as much as you can handle, through your bond. Remember to release it into the Force. Don't weaken yourself; you'll need to be strong for him and feed him strength when he can handle it. Do you understand? Just take the pain overload, if you can, that's all."

"I understand."

"Anakin, I mean it. Don't overdo it - that won't help him, understand? You have to save your strength for later, when he'll need you even more than now. The only pain medication he is able to tolerate gets less effective with him over time. As he heals, he'll be awake more and more."

Obi-Wan Kenobi's intolerance to medicine was well known in the Temple. Nearly every shot, every pill he had ever had, had caused extreme side effects. Some of them had, in hindsight, been almost funny.

One legendary story had it that after one particularly bad reaction when he was quite young, Obi-Wan had slipped out of his bed and wandered the halls until he had ended up in Master Yoda's quarters. He had climbed into bed with the little Master and squealed with delight that he had found a toy Gungan doll.

It was with great difficulty that the little Master disengaged himself from the boy and comm'd the Healers to come get him. When they arrived, Yoda was in the corner with his gimer stick blocking the boy's advance, muttering he was no Gungan, and no doll, and that any Jedi who didn't know better had no business being a Jedi.

The next morning the Master had come in, pointed at Obi-Wan, and thrust a stuffed animal at the astonished healers and told them to give it to the sick youngling. He had scowled at them, daring them to repeat the story. The story was around the Temple within hours.

Most drugs, though, made him extremely sick, sometimes with an extreme allergic reaction. Obi-Wan Kenobi was known as the only Jedi who got sicker in the healers ward, rather than better. Obi-Wan had a most un-Jedi-like reaction to the place: he hated it. He had insisted his padawan learn enough basic first aid that he could avoid the place whenever possible.

"Anakin - can you be spared to sit with him until we arrive? We're going to bring him back to Coruscant, but if you are needed elsewhere you know where your duty lies."

"I know, and I understand. I'll watch for the transport," Anakin promised, and signed off.

Official duty be darned; he knew where his duty was. At his master's side.


	9. At My Master's Side

Anakin had accepted the offered pain medicine as he had opened himself to Obi-Wan's pain. He let the pain wash over him, absorbing as much as he could and releasing it into the Force. Despite Bant's warning, he took enough that he was glad he was sitting by his master's side. If he hadn't been sitting, his knees would have buckled.

As Anakin _reached_ in through the bond and opened himself to Obi-Wan's pain, the Jedi's head moved weakly on the pillow and his rate of respiration increased. He was trying to resist Anakin's soft pull, as if trying to protect his padawan from an onslaught of pain. The soft moans tore at Anakin's heart.

"Come on, Obi-Wan," Anakin breathed, "let me in, stop trying to hold me away, you'll feel better, I promise. Let me in, Master. C'mon, I can't help you if you don't let me take some of this from you. It won't hurt me, I promise…but you'll feel better. I just want to take it from you and release it, so you'll feel better, so you'll get better."

But the words didn't reach Obi-Wan, and his efforts to resist were weakening him even more. He was already far too weak.

Anakin took a deep breath and sat back, afraid his very efforts to help were making things worse. But he was more afraid of doing nothing, so he clenched his hands and tried again, determined to succeed, throwing as much reassurance into his voice as he could summon. Reassurance and gentle teasing, for Obi-Wan had learned to relax under his padawan's affectionate teases.

"Stop being so stubborn and just cooperate, by the Force," he demanded affectionately, as the Jedi's stiff resistance began to soften, and Anakin began to find access through his master's shields. He kept coaxing and pulling until he felt the currents of pain swirling around inside the Jedi, and was able to grab onto them and pull them into himself and release them out into the Force.

He sat, breathing heavily and teeth gritted, head swimming and beads of sweat rolling down his face, one hand touching the Jedi's and one hand clenched by his side. After a while his head drooped, until he lay with his head at Obi-Wan's side, no longer having the strength to hold it upright. He continued to pull the pain into himself, and eventually he thought he heard through the buzzing in his ears the lessening of Obi-Wan's almost silent whimpers.

Pulling out of his almost-trance, he sat up and touched his master's temple, reaching deep through the bond. Obi-Wan was no longer suffering as he had been; the pain he retained could not be dismissed, but it was no longer the terrifying pain that had threatened to over-stress his weakened body.

"Oh, Master, I'm so sorry...I wish I could have spared you all this," Anakin whispered, bending over to lay his head next to his master's as his thumb softly caressed his master's cheek. He was so worn out with pulling Obi-Wan's pain into the Force that he fell asleep in that position.

The healer, as he had often done during the long hours, looked in again and a half smile broke the serious planes of his face. Both Jedi were asleep. The young one looked less fierce as he slept; the burning eyes were closed and he suddenly looked like an ordinary young man, worn out by worrying.

The older Jedi looked more at peace, too - the beads of sweat had dried and he was no longer weakly rolling his head on the pillow. Carefully, the healer stepped over to the monitor readouts and nodded in satisfaction.

He leaned over the patient and listened carefully - the only clue to his prior distress was the slight change to his breathing - there had been no obvious signs of it until the young man had so abruptly burst into the room and so dramatically pointed it out.

He now knew that Jedi control could keep such deep pain from registering on their monitors; information to be added to their data for future need. He touched Obi-Wan's wrist, his forehead, to satisfy himself that all was well, though the mere fact that the young man slept so soundly at the patient's side had already told him that the worst had passed.

As he looked at the two Jedi, somehow touched by the devotion the young one showed to the older, and wondering just what kind of man inspired such feelings, he found himself meeting the cold blue eyes of the young man. Anakin had woken suddenly, alert and half way to his feet before merely sitting up straight, with eyes boring into the healer's own.

"Oh, it's you," he said flatly. "He's better, now."

"Thanks to you," the healer acknowledged. "Our monitors just were incapable of registering his pain."

For a minute the young Jedi just looked at him, then his look softened, just a bit. "I know that, now. Even unconscious, he was trying to hold it in but it leaked through our bond. I don't think any instruments would have picked that up - that's why it's best that badly injured Jedi be treated by Jedi when possible - our healers can use the Force to see within."

"What is this 'bond' you keep mentioning?" the healer asked curiously.

"Well, it's a training bond between Master and Padawan," Anakin replied, glancing at Obi-Wan and smiling gently. "It varies a bit between Jedi, but with us, well, it allows us to sense each other's thoughts and feelings, and sometimes even words, though I often wonder if it's just that we know each other so well we can put words to the feelings. I've been his apprentice for a number of years now."

The healer nodded, though he found it hard to accept, despite the evidence of his own eyes. He thought how young and approachable the young man looked when he smiled, though the coiled tenseness never quite left his body.

"How long does one remain an apprentice? There have never been Jedi on Skore before, all we know are the stories…." He trailed off, with a slight shrug to indicate how much trust he put into stories.

Anakin smiled grimly. "Until one passes the Trials. I hope to face them shortly. My Master thinks I am not ready, though I am. It is not my decision to make." For a moment, his face hardened and the healer almost shivered at the fierceness in those eyes.

"When I pass the Trials, I will no longer have a master and our training bond will be severed. I will then be Obi-Wan's equal." No, he hadn't been Obi-Wan's equal in some time; he knew he long ago had surpassed Obi-Wan in power; he was by far a greater Jedi than Obi-Wan would ever be, measured by power alone.

He knew his master thought he still had much to learn – for one thing, that power was not everything. But Obi-Wan didn't know just how much power he had, and was still gaining. With his power, he needed little else - he could stop the war, he could make the Council accept his marriage - he could protect his loved ones.

Then his eyes caught sight of Obi-Wan, lying so still in the bed beside him. He hadn't power enough to keep Obi-Wan from almost being killed in front of him and he didn't have power enough to keep him alive now. One day, perhaps, he would.

Under his glance, Obi-Wan almost seemed to shiver. Quickly dismissing his thoughts, Anakin leaned over the Jedi, but nothing had changed: he still lay unconscious, trying to survive. And there was little Anakin could do to help. For now.

_Someday I will be able to save you, Master, _he thought_. Someday, I won't have to worry about losing you, or Padme, or anyone that I love. Someday, you'll appreciate my power._


	10. The Beginning of Hope

Time passed and the healers still said nothing new. Anakin was frustrated with the lack of answers. Oh, the healers were good at speaking, but they said nothing he hadn't heard already, more than once.

_We keep hoping…_

_he's held on this long, that's encouraging..._

_he has a rough time ahead of him..._

_few patients survive with such extensive injuries…_

_we don't know… we hope… we wait. _

Anakin paced restlessly, longing for something he could do. He tried to meditate, but he always found calmness of mind elusive and now more than ever. He hated inactivity and now he was reduced to nothing but watching and waiting.

He whirled; had he heard a sigh? He leaned over his master, but nothing had changed from the minute before, the hour before – the days and weeks and the entirety of his life before.

When he closed his eyes at night, he no longer saw his master's sharp eyes or wry grin, or his frown of concentration. The face creased in pain, white and drawn with a fine sheen of sweat covering it – that was the face now imprinted on his heart. The Force had allowed a strong and gentle Jedi to be transformed into a mere mortal being.

He heard it again, a soft whisper, and realized it was the soft whisper of a breeze coming through the partially cracked window across the corridor. How dare it taunt him, make him think Obi-Wan was stirring? With an irrational hate, Anakin strode to the window and shut it firmly. That room would hear no sighs, but those of the fallen Jedi, if the Force were ever to grant that.

The Force did not grant him his wish. It did not make Obi-Wan open his eyes, or lick his lips, or even mumble in pain. It let the Jedi sleep in a silence that was not sleep: neither death nor life but something in between.

The silence screamed at Anakin, echoed in his mind. _Failure!_ He had failed again to protect one he loved. He wasn't strong enough, powerful enough – perhaps he didn't love enough.

He was the Chosen One – yet when he chose to protect those he loved, the Force would not obey him. Perhaps his scream would break that endless silence. He opened his mouth – and closed it again. The Force could not be commanded or cowed. Obi-Wan would only slumber on, oblivious to his padawan, unable to admonish him to release his emotions.

With a strangled sob, Anakin flung himself in a chair and leaned forward, fingers tapping absently on his thighs as his eyes bored into his master's closed eyes.

It's not fair, he raged at his master. You lie there, not caring how much pain you're causing me. Your padawan needs you, master, and you - aren't – here - for me.

Even before his mind finished formulating his thoughts, he felt ashamed. Obi-Wan had nearly been killed, might still die for all he knew, and here he raged at the injured man for not waking to comfort him.

_It's okay, padawan, I won't leave you. I'm here. _

For a startled moment, Anakin thought Obi-Wan had spoken the words aloud, and then shook as he realized his mind had pulled the words from his memories. Words he had heard on more than one occasion – when he had been sick, when he been in trouble and expected to face the Council for a reprimand, when he broke down after Geonosis and told Obi-Wan his mother was dead…yet how many times had he turned away from his master's offered support and comfort?

Obi-Wan had never pressed him to open up, letting Anakin decide what to reveal and what to keep inside. Pride too often kept Anakin silent. He had wanted Obi-Wan to sit him down, force him to speak what was on his mind and console him with a hug, and his master waited for him to feel comfortable speaking. The result, too often, was silence.

Despite the silences, he had always been comforted by the knowledge that Obi-Wan would be there for him, waiting. He had never stopped waiting. Obi-Wan's patience was endless.

Was Obi-Wan patiently waiting for Anakin to give him permission to go? The thought startled and scared Anakin as soon as it crossed his mind.

"Master, am I being selfish in needing you to remain here? You have to recover; I don't know if I can go on without you. I can't lose you, too. I just can't. I won't let you go - I can't let you go. Please, please wake up, Master," Anakin whispered, but the unconscious man did not respond; he just lay silent and unmoving.

Waiting exhausted him; he needed action, movement, but no amount of pacing would hurry Obi-Wan back to consciousness. NothingAnakin could do would make any difference. It was all up to the Jedi himself. Ordinarily, he knew, this alone would ensure success, but even Jedi had limits, and a Jedi at the brink of death had no more recuperative powers than any ordinary being.

It took a certain amount of strength to turn the Force to recuperation, and Obi-Wan had none left; it took all his waning energy just to survive, let alone begin the path to healing.

But even as his body deteriorated, his will seemed to grow stronger. Anakin could see the disbelief in the healers' faces, each time they rushed to respond to a softly trilled alarm.

Each time they stabilized his heart beat or brought his blood pressure back up or administered oxygen, they would shake their heads at each other before giving Anakin a nod of the head as they left the room, assuring him this particular crisis was over.

Each time Anakin would stand out of the way, face intent and hands clenched at his side willing life into the silent man with every cell of his body. The healers could do what they could for the body; he would do what he could for the life energy so diminished within.

His master might not be capable of giving his padawan what Anakin needed from him, but he knew his master would give everything he could, including his own life, to protect him. He could do no less for his master.

"Obi-Wan," he whispered in despair, but still, there was no response. "Please, wake up, Master. Please. I feel so lost, so alone. Don't leave me in such pain." Even his plaintive cry did no good.

By now, Anakin had few tears left. He had shed too many over the past days, at the side of the still figure. By now exhausted, he closed his eyes for a quick nap.

"A…Anakin…." A weak whisper, hardly audible, sighed through the quiet. A finger twitched against a bedcover. The injured Jedi stirred weakly, a glimmer of awareness awakening in a mind fighting off sedatives and wrapped in a memory of almost unbearable pain.

"An…akin? Pad…a…wan?" The voice was a thin thread of sound, no louder than the soft clicks and beeps of the machines by the bedside. The head turned, an inch perhaps, unerringly towards his padawan, leaning back asleep in a chair pulled up to Obi-Wan's bedside. The forefinger trembled, lifting a fraction of an inch in a futile attempt to reach Anakin.

But Anakin was slumbering.

He had been keeping vigil for what seemed an eternity, alert to any change in Obi-Wan's breathing or shift in body position, anything that meant Obi-Wan might wake up, hoping, praying and cajoling his master to no avail. He desperately missed Obi-Wan's scowls, affectionate grins, and dry humor - all the things that made his master dear and familiar to him.

This unmoving, shrunken figure who barely responded to stimuli was a stranger to him. The healer had told him to speak to Obi-Wan, even if he didn't appear to hear, stroke his hand, anything to connect him to the here and now, anything to anchor Obi-Wan to life. It was really the healer's attempt to sooth the young Jedi, more than hope it would aid in the patient's recovery. The healer had been honest, when asked about the patient's condition.

_"By all rights, he should be dead. Some beings have an extraordinary will to survive and can beat incredible odds. Your Jedi is one of them. That he's still alive now is a testament to his willpower, but it's no guarantee. I'm sorry – he's failing and I honestly don't think he'll live much longer, but he's sure trying to prove me wrong. I've never seen a patient so stubborn and determined to live." _

Anakin had closed his eyes at hearing the words; he didn't want to hear them. He focused on the positive - Obi-Wan was holding onto life with everything he had, and Anakin was holding onto him with all he had, or could offer. He had poured whatever he could of the Force into his master, but he was not a healer and would never be.

The Force, or the whisper, something nudged the young Jedi.

"Obi-Wan!" Anakin awoke and jumped to his master's side, enfolding a parchment-thin hand between his own and stroking it tenderly. The joy and relief in his voice was overwhelming; his eyes softened at the smile trying to tremble on his master's lips.

The barest hint of a smile, one that turned into a sigh. "I can't…be dead. I hurt. Ohhhhh…." Obi-Wan shivered with the pain. He still hadn't opened his eyes, or moved more than just that one finger of one hand, for what remained of his strength had been spent.

"You - okay?" A concerned wisp of sound reached out for reassurance.

"Yes, Obi-Wan, I'm fine. You'll be too, I promise." Anakin bowed his head over Obi-Wan's hand, brought it to his lips and laid his head against it. With infinite care, slowly, ever so slowly, Obi-Wan slipped his hand out of Anakin's grasp to brush the back of it against Anakin's cheek. One finger stretched out and touched a tear. It seemed to pause there, as if surprised.

"Master, I was so scared," Anakin confessed with a gulp. "You've been lying there, half dead, for days now. All anyone could tell me was that you were fighting hard to stay alive, that you had no right to be alive, even."

Obi-Wan struggled for words, finding tears welling up within him. He must have been in really bad shape to so badly scare his padawan that he would actually admit to it.

"I'm…sorry," he murmured. Only a hint of the tears that Anakin's confession had brought sparkled on his lashes, for even they could not fully escape the eyelids he had no strength to open.

Somehow, from some deep reservoir within, Obi-Wan found the strength to slide his hand down Anakin's cheek, to clasp his padawan around the shoulders and to pull him down into a weak one-armed embrace. Anakin collapsed against the frail body, weeping quietly into Obi-Wan's shoulder as the Jedi's hand gently patted him.

They both looked somewhat embarrassed, and deeply moved at the same time. Neither wished for the embrace to end. Anakin's world had all but crumbled, and now Obi-Wan was reassembling it with one soft, weak touch and weary concern.

"Sick?"

"Very sick," Anakin returned, smiling into Obi-Wan's chest even as he shuddered with the memory. "You had a terrible allergic reaction to the drug they gave you. You were also wounded, very badly hurt."

"I...I'll be… okay, Anakin," Obi-Wan whispered reassuringly, and tentatively sent a weak strand of comfort out to his padawan. The effort exhausted him. Anakin wrapped it with a strong strand of love and strength, and felt Obi-Wan sigh gratefully.

They didn't move, the padawan lying with his head on his master's chest, with a hand stroking the Jedi's temple, neither speaking out loud. They had no need for words. The touch spoke for them, more eloquently than mere words could.

Obi-Wan's body jerked with another sharp stab of pain; he moaned and rolled his head to one side. His hand tightened on Anakin's shoulder in a vise-like grip that nearly had Anakin grunting. He gasped weakly, trying to release it into the Force with soft shudders shaking his weak body.

Anakin lifted his head, half sat up and leaned over the Jedi, slipping an arm under his shoulders to tenderly wrap Obi-Wan within his arms, trying not to move him, yet encircle him within his embrace nonetheless.

He murmured soft sounds that meant nothing, yet everything, almost imperceptibly rocking the Jedi until the curl of pain crested and receded.

Then he settled the painfully thin shoulders back onto the bed, and studied his master's face. Anakin had never seen him so pale, bright spots of red staining his cheeks and dark circles ringing the eyes that had not yet opened, as if the effort of moving even an eyelid was too much. The silky hair clung in wet spikes.

"You have to keep fighting, Master. They've done all they can for you; the rest is up to you. You must fight hard." Overwhelmed with affection, Anakin kissed the damp forehead. Obi-Wan seemed to smile for a moment, a pleased sound escaping through lips not quite closed and nestled into his bedding.

Thinking the Jedi asleep, or again unconscious, Anakin reached for a cloth, wetted it and patted the beloved face - to pause as Obi-Wan's mind slid tentatively towards him.

_You know that you held me here_? a sigh wrapped the words.

_Here_?

_Here, there, no matter. You held me here. _

_Would you have preferred I let you die_? Softly teasing.

_I am sure I would feel much better, if you had_. There was a hint, just a hint, of his master's sense of humor.

_But I would feel much worse. Have I ever told you I love you, Master, and I will never allow you to leave me?_

Obi-Wan felt warmth reach through the bond and wrap itself around him. He sent a Force smile back at his padawan.

_I do believe hearing that makes all this worthwhile. You've never admitted that before this. _

_Obi-Wan_! There was hurt with the exclamation.

_But thank you. I love you, too_. This time, there was no mistaking the humor. Or the love.

_Anakin_?

_Yes, Master?_

Anakin never knew what Obi-Wan meant to say, for with a soft exhalation, Obi-Wan had slipped back into sleep.

Somehow, Anakin knew that Obi-Wan would survive.

Not just this time, or the next. But all the times. Obi-Wan would find a way to turn even death into life.

"Leave you do, with the transport?" Yoda asked, tapping his slow way to Bant's side as she stood watching a ship be prepared.

"I am his friend," she whispered. "Any healer could go, I suppose."

"No, no, good it is that a friend who is a healer too goes to him. Accompany you, I shall." Bant turned surprised silver eyes on Yoda. Surely he was too busy.

"A soft spot in my heart for our Obi-Wan, I have too," the little Jedi stated earnestly. "Why this is, I do not know. Why matters not."

"No. I guess not," she whispered.

"Yes, yes, a friend he is. But don't tell Master Windu, that," Yoda whispered conspiratorially, as he leaned closer to her and held a wizened claw up in warning.

"He won't hear it from me," a deep voice spoke up with an undertone of amusement. It was the dark skinned Haruun master himself.

"Oh," Bant softly squealed, scared to be in the company of the two highest ranking Jedi in the entire Order. She didn't want to be anywhere around the argument she was sure was going to develop. She was shocked when Master Windu winked at her and told her, "Yoda just wants a few days off."

Yoda was unperturbed, and lifted his gimer stick off the floor. "Wish you did that coming also you were. Waiting for word you find hard."

"It is never easy to sit in Council and wonder how any of our Jedi are faring, when any one of them is missing or injured." Mace returned grimly. "It is an exercise in patience that we are all getting more skilled at."

Yoda turned and smiled at the healer. "See, you do, that we also worry and wait. Sometimes, we do not wait but hurry to help."

"Y…yes, Master Yoda," Bant stammered.

"May the Force be with you all," Mace stated quietly as the two Jedi climbed aboard. "And don't forget to give us a progress report on Obi-Wan when you see him!"

Mace stood watching the ship slip out of the massive hangar until it could be seen no more. Then he sighed and returned to his duties. All too many Jedi had died in this war.

He felt each loss keenly, though he let the sorrow pass through him as a Jedi should. And now, Obi-Wan was severely injured; perhaps to live and perhaps to die. He found serenity hard to reach in such a state of uncertainty.

The two Jedi sat quietly in their seats as the ship lifted off, deep in their own thoughts. Bant stared out the window as Coruscant swiftly receded behind them. Her eyes filled with tears as she thought of Obi-Wan, injured and not certain to survive. If the worst happened, she wanted a chance to say goodbye first.

"Survive, our Obi-Wan will," Yoda leaned over and placed a hand on her knee. He sounded very certain. Bant wanted desperately to agree, but she didn't know. The future was always in motion. Nothing was certain.


	11. To Anakin's Rescue

Obi-Wan slowly woke, trying to get his bearings. He didn't know where he was; he lay quietly waiting for memories to come back. A blast - flash - tumbling - hitting rocks, hitting ground - pain. Incredible pain, such as he had never experienced, hoped he never would again.

Hurt, he was hurt. He tried to move his arms but he was tired, too tired. Or too weak. Anakin! He remembered; Anakin had not been far from him.

Was Anakin okay?

"Anakin?" he whispered. "Anakin!" He tried again, but there was no reply. Fear flashed through him - was Anakin lying injured nearby and unable to respond?

He had to get to Anakin.

He was lying on his back, and couldn't move. He would crawl, if he had to, to Anakin's side. He tried to roll over, but weights seemed to hold him down. It took all of his strength to accomplish the task. It left him spent and shaking.

He had to get to Anakin.

The thought propelled him forward. It gave needed strength to his one functioning arm. He squirmed forward, tethered by branches in the thicket he was caught in. He frowned; they were holding him. They were attached to him. Like the flesh-eating plants of Norleon.

Was Anakin caught in their grasp, too?

The Jedi pulled free of their grasp and half slid, half fell onto the stony ground. He had fallen a few feet, luckily it was no further. He couldn't make sense of the jumble the Force was telling him; in the dark, he would have to move carefully, feeling his way.

His left arm wouldn't cooperate, he couldn't bend it to aid his progress; he had to use his right arm to pull himself forward, and squirm awkwardly on his stomach to make even a few inches. With every few inches gained, he had to lay his head on the ground and gasp for breath and try to will the sharp needles of stabbing pains away.

Driving him forward, each time he thought he could advance no further, was the thought of Anakin. Hurt, and needing Obi-Wan's assistance. And he found a way to move forward.

Each inch was an agony, each inch was a victory. Each inch was that much closer to his padawan.

_Anakin, I'm coming!_

Worrying at Obi-Wan's bedside had worn Anakin down, but the Jedi was now sleeping quietly. He would not wake for hours, or so the healers thought, so Anakin slipped back to his quarters for a quick clean up and to get some rest of his own. He would also contact Padme and give her another update on his master's condition.

He knew Padme loved Obi-Wan, too, and how anxiously she waited for her husband's updates on his condition. He had known her worry was almost as deep as his own, when he had told her that his instincts told him that Obi-Wan would survive. Tears of relief had streamed down her face. He had wanted to take Padme in his arms and kiss her tears away. Together, they could have cried in each other's arms, shared their pain with each other.

He had sat at Obi-Wan's bedside for days, sometimes cat-napping with his arms crossed on the side of the bed, his head cushioned between them, always at Obi-Wan's side. As the Xtyl had finally passed out of Obi-Wan's system, his breathing had improved, and the regular soft breaths were reassuring signs that helped lull the exhausted padawan to sleep.

The healers said Obi-Wan was still in danger; they watched for signs of infection in the repaired organs, or some internal bleeding they may have missed. But the droids were now reassuring, whereas before they had softly clucked and hovered at the ready.

They no longer spoke of each hour as a victory, but of recuperation. They spoke of months of hard work ahead to restore the injured body, but Anakin knew once Obi-Wan had moved beyond merely surviving to actually healing, the process would be much faster than the droids anticipated. They had never treated a Jedi before, and did not know what miracles the Force was capable of producing, when properly focused.

Anakin awoke sooner than he would have preferred, but he needed to speak to Padme before returning to the Med Center. He needed to reach her in the early hours of Coruscant, before she was tied up in meetings and in the Senate.

Anakin had always hated early mornings, but mornings spent with his wife had - if not exactly changed his mind - had at least made mornings enjoyable. It had been too long since he had woken up at his wife's side, to prop himself on one arm and stare at the woman sleeping peacefully beside him.

He would smile: his wife, more beautiful without her Senatorial costumes and intricate hair pieces, would be curled up. When his smile had grown wider and more delighted, she would wake, turn over and smile at him. Her husband. And they would kiss, gently at first, until his mouth demanded more.

Morning was something he treasured, because of Padme. Because of Padme, he got dressed, and padded into Obi-Wan's room and activated the com unit. They had agreed that Padme would be sure to be alone at this hour, should Anakin call, while they waited to see how Obi-Wan fared.

Because of this, there was no delaying the vid until mutual assurances were met.

"Padme," he whispered with longing, just staring and drinking in the sight of his wife. She smirked and slid the robe further off her shoulder.

"Don't do this to me, Padme," he growled, even as his fingers reached helplessly out to reach that which he could not touch.

"Oh, Anakin, I'm so sorry." She was instantly contrite, face flushing at his words.

"I'm sorry, love, but you caught me off guard. I shall do better, no, don't pull it up. Yes, that's it. Padme, you're so beautiful. I need to see you, to remember what I'm missing."

"Oh, so you're forgetting already," she teased.

"No, never. It's just that - you're even more beautiful than I remember." The two smiled at each, staring hungrily at the beloved face so far away, waiting for the time they could be together again. After a while, Anakin cleared his throat.

Instantly, Padme switched off the seductive pose. It was the business-like Padme who spoke.

"How's Obi-Wan doing today? Every time you seem less worried."

"He's still very sick, but the Healers seem less concerned. They say it's still touch and go, but they don't know Obi-Wan very well. He can beat those odds at any time."

This time he even managed a smile when talking about his master's condition. He hadn't been able to think of Obi-Wan and smile at the same time for such a long time...far too long a time.

Thoughts of Obi-Wan had been too tied up with tears and pain; he had forgotten that it could be any other way.

"That man can beat any odds, Anakin." Padme smiled reassuringly. "You've been reassuring me for several days now that he's improving. You must finally believe it, too, look at you! You're cleaned up, and reasonably relaxed."

Anakin grinned, and sent a tendril of thought to Obi-Wan. His face instantly changed. He could hear Obi-Wan calling for him, struggling to reach him.

"What's wrong?" Padme asked, her eyes wide, seeing the frantic look that had come over her husband's face.

"It's Obi-Wan - I've got to go - no, he's not dying. But I may kill him myself," Anakin shouted grimly as he switched off the com unit and tore down the hall.

Bant had fallen asleep in her seat, and her head drooped sideways. Yoda was willing to let her head rest on his shoulder, but the small female Mon Calamari was still bigger than he and her head would have rested on the top of his. It would not be comfortable for either of them. He used a small Force push to lean her the other way.

He sighed. Obi-Wan was lucky to have friends like Bant, Garen and Reeft - Jedi he had grown up with since they were crechlings. They were now all Jedi Knights. Jedi did not harbor dislikes, but Jedi were of all personalities. Obi-Wan Kenobi was one of the more well-known, well-respected and well-liked Jedi.

Yoda had always kept an eye on young Obi-Wan, starting with the day he had identified him as a potential Jedi, and with his parents' permission, brought him to the Temple.

Yoda had brought many babies, hatchlings and other young beings to the Temple, but he had found a connection with the youngster that was new and puzzling to him. Perhaps it was the Force wanting an ally to mold the child, for though he was talented and personable, he did not always fit in. Even as one of the more talented younglings in his age group, he had seemed destined not to be a Jedi as the Force desired.

No one wanted to take him as an apprentice.

Yoda had encouraged the boy, tried to temper his rage and impatience, and to find a master worthy of the boy. Qui-Gon Jinn had been the perfect match - all agreed. All except Master Jinn himself, who was determined not to take a padawan ever again after the loss of his last one to the Darkside.

No padawan, ever, and especially not Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Yoda had seen that the Force meant them to be together, and tried his best to help the Force nudge them together, but Master Jinn was troubled, and unwilling to listen to the Force. The Force was stronger than Master Jinn's resistance. In the end, it had worked out. Together, they had forged a team as had not been seen in many years.

It had troubled Yoda greatly, then, when Master Jinn had declared his intention to train the young Anakin Skywalker, the prophesied "Chosen One." Obi-Wan was not yet ready to become a Knight, and to be all but cast off in front of the Council, with no warning, was cruelty of a sort that Yoda had never expected from a Jedi. It had not been intended that way.

He had seen the hurt in Obi-Wan's eyes; the same hurt he had displayed at thirteen when Qui-Gon had first rejected him as his padawan, seeming to doom Obi-Wan to a life in the Agri-Corps.

The older Obi-Wan was better able to hide those feelings he could not totally release into the Force, but Yoda knew of them. His eyes, always, revealed his thoughts, no matter how well constructed his shields were. Obi-Wan had learned well to control his emotions, as a Jedi was expected to do, though training his young padawan could fray his temper into frustration.

His eyes, though, were never a mask; they were the windows to that which lay hidden within. They could sparkle with joy, or sorrow. All too often, it was sorrow.

Yoda had seen a different hurt, not born of rejection this time, but born of grief when Obi-Wan greeted them on Naboo when the Council arrived to pay its last respects to Master Jinn, slain by the Sith that Obi-Wan had, in turn, himself slain.

He had seen yet another hurt in those eyes after the difficult time on Geonosis. A hurt born this time of guilt, thinking that his capture had been the precipitating action that had ended with the massive loss of life the Jedi had suffered. Yoda had helped Obi-Wan face and release his feelings through several conversations.

Yoda knew the remnants of hurt left behind with Obi-Wan's realization that his padawan thought him uncaring and unfeeling; hurt with the knowledge his own padawan was not fully open to him; didn't trust him enough, or love him enough to see into his heart.

Release of that kind of hurt into the Force was never complete; such knowledge could not be erased from the heart, even if ignored and forgiven by the mind.

He knew, too, the deep hurt that was like a twist of a red hot dagger into an open wound from not receiving any comfort or understanding from Anakin, after Jedi Siri Tachi had died in his arms. Obi-Wan had loved her, and she him, though they had both put their feelings away years past as Jedi should. It did not make her death any easier for Obi-Wan to bear.

It was Yoda who had sat with him, afterwards, offering silent comfort, not his padawan.

Perhaps that was what originally drew Yoda to Obi-Wan: a sense of the hurt that would cling to this gifted Jedi. A hurt, often not his to bear, but a hurt he accepted. A burden he would bear, because he could. Yoda wondered what other sorrows, other pain, lay in his future. He had had a glimpse, perhaps, in his meditations.

There were other reasons, too, that Yoda had a soft spot for Obi-Wan: it was because Obi-Wan was a good and compassionate man, with a kind and gentle heart. It was also because of what he was well on the way to becoming and would soon be: a wise and gentle Jedi, much honored and respected. But not, not often enough, though - just happy.

Yoda meant to see that his heart never hardened under life's assaults.

"Anakin?" Obi-Wan moaned again. He was near. Obi-Wan sensed it. He reached out, again, and a hand took his in a firm grip.

"Anakin!" The hand was Anakin's; it was warm, not the cold and still hand of a dead man as he had feared. Relief washed over him; Anakin was safe!

Anakin Skywalker had darted through the halls and slid to his knees beside Obi-Wan, struggling feebly on the floor of the Med Center hallway. He had made it further than Anakin would have believed, crawling inch by slow inch, making just one in the time it had taken Anakin to fly down the hall.

"Obi-Wan, I'm here, it's Anakin, I'm here," he assured the Jedi, gently pulling Obi-Wan into his lap and cradling the wounded body against his chest, even as he raised his voice and shouted for assistance.

"Anakin?" a weak hand reached up, searching. Anakin grabbed onto it and held the hand against his cheek as he held his master close to his heart.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan sighed in confirmation. "Are you okay? Did the plants get you?"

"Plants? No, Obi-Wan, nothing got me. I'm okay, you hear. I'm okay. You're the one who is not."

"Oh, that's good," the Jedi sighed. "As long as you're okay. I guess I can sleep, now."

His body went limp and his head rolled back against Anakin's shoulder. He was out cold, now that he had accomplished what he needed to do.

Anakin carefully got to his feet, holding Obi-Wan in his arms as a droid supported the broken leg. They carefully maneuvered into the room and laid Obi-Wan back on the bed.

Anakin was shocked at just how light Obi-Wan had been in his arms, despite the casts and with due consideration for the support the droid had given to his legs. That's when Anakin realized what the "plants" were - the leads and wires that had hooked Obi-Wan to machines and monitors.

He stood in a corner, out of the way, as the droids checked Obi-Wan's injuries and huddled around monitors, reassuring themselves that Obi-Wan had somehow avoided further injury, had not torn open any stitches or done any further harm to himself.

When the droids retreated, satisfied, Anakin pulled a seat over by Obi-Wan and sat down, heavily.

"Don't you ever pull anything like that again, Master, or I'll kill you myself," he scolded.


	12. Recognition of the Ties that Bind

"Anakin!" The Jedi had just arrived, and Bant had come into the room. She was shocked at the words she heard. Beside her, Yoda only chuckled.

"Better he must be, for his padawan to threaten to kill him," he said mildly, crinkling his face as Anakin jumped, and turned to face them. Anakin flushed and looked anywhere but at the two Jedi.

"He crawled out of bed looking for me. I think he thought he was back on the battlefield. We just got him back into bed. They said he didn't hurt himself further."

Bant stood next to Obi-Wan's side, looking down at him and noting the monitor readouts. She laid a hand on his temple and reached in with the Force, and shook her head disapprovingly.

"He's much too weak to exert himself, Anakin. The energy he used should have been directed at healing himself. Frankly, I'm surprised he was even able to move at all, let alone out of bed."

"Well, uh, you see, he hasn't really even been awake at all, except just once," Anakin stuttered, looking anywhere but at Bant. "He made it further than that - he was out in the hallway, moving pretty fast for a man given up as dead just the other day."

"Much can one accomplish, when the will is strong enough," Yoda observed quietly. "To save his padawan, he was attempting. Risk himself, for you, hmm? Remember that, you should young Skywalker. Good to know, yes?"

Anakin merely nodded; he had always found it best to just nod quietly and agree with Yoda, but as he thought on his words, he found himself really hearing them and realizing the truth behind them. His master had risked his health, and possibly his life, for him. Not just for his padawan, but for him – Anakin Skywalker.

The Jedi may have been under a delusion that Anakin was hurt, but that merely underscored what his master had done. It was not a conscious act; it was a sense of duty and devotion deep inside that needed no thought, for it came not from the mind, but the heart.

Somehow, sometime, something within Obi-Wan had changed: when he looked at Anakin he now longer saw a promise to a dying and beloved master; he saw Anakin.

Perhaps it had even happened before they left Naboo – he remembered his half-voiced wish that it had been Obi-Wan who had died, rather than Qui-Gon. The Jedi had known, yet still opened his hand and his heart to the small, scared boy he had been. There had been no judgment, only acceptance.

He had resented the young Jedi at first, and kept his distance from him. They had never spoken of it, though his master had gone out of his way to reassure his new padawan of the care he would take of him. Obi-Wan had put Anakin's needs ahead of his own need to grieve for his fallen master, and Anakin had not even noticed.

Anakin wondered how he had been so blind to this, and then realized he himself didn't even know when his own reluctant acceptance of Obi-Wan as a substitute for the dead Qui-Gon had turned into affection and then love. Did Obi-Wan even know?

Instead, Anakin had turned to the man who offered him unconditional approval and acceptance and demanded nothing in return: Chancellor Palpatine. The appreciation and affection given him from the first had been a welcome escape from the loneliness and hard work he found at the Jedi Temple, and the lessons his master tried to teach him.

Perhaps seeing how he was unable to fill the parental role, Obi-Wan had allowed the relationship to flourish, though Anakin knew it was reluctantly.

They were two Jedi initially bound to each other from tragedy, yet now committed to each other out of mutual respect and love. It was, Anakin realized, the first lesson he had truly taken to heart from any of Yoda's words.

"Good to know, yes," he absently echoed the words, and suddenly he knew his prior grief was as nothing to the depths of the grief he would now feel should Obi-Wan not survive, now that he truly realized the truth of their relationship. Along with this recognition came regret, for it was also too late to open long shut barriers.

Too much had been hidden and too much left unsaid; it was too late – too late for him to confess to his slaughter of the Sandpeople, too late to admit his love for and marriage to Padme, and too late to admit to his struggle with the expectations for the "Chosen One."

For his master it was too late to recognize that his apprentice had needed more than Jedi training; he needed to feel love and appreciation almost more than acceptance. Too late for Obi-Wan to recognize that he would have had to overcome his own nature and training to offer his apprentice more in the way of physical affection.

It was too late to know that when he had most needed Obi-Wan's love and support, he had had it all along without even knowing it. Anakin had wanted it on his terms, and been unable to see Obi-Wan's affection for him because it had never been expressed in the way he had most wanted. He had been so terribly blind to what he had had all along.

Obi-Wan, too, had wanted something that Anakin could not offer. Anakin had needed the physical expression and Obi-Wan the emotional connection. They had never found common ground, or even knew how much they both desired the same thing – a closer relationship.

Neither of them had seen what was right in front of them.

"Thank you," he said quietly, and it was directed both at the man at whose side he sat and the diminutive Jedi master standing behind him.

During this exchange, Bant had slipped out and finalized the arrangements to transfer Obi-Wan to Coruscant. She came back in and stared crossly at the two Jedi.

"We'll have to wait to be sure Obi-Wan's rescue attempt didn't destabilize his already precarious state. We won't leave until we know he's stable."

"When expect this might be?" Yoda asked, leaning his head against his stick, his eyes never leaving Obi-Wan's face.

"If this doesn't cause a set back, perhaps in a few days. Certainly no sooner."

"Stay with him, I will until then," Yoda stated, with a soft nod. "If longer we must wait, other arrangements we can make."

"I'm staying, too," Anakin said firmly, fearful that he'd be sent away.

"Yes, yes, stay you should, should he wake and seek you again," Yoda agreed. Bant merely nodded.

The three Jedi arranged themselves around the room. Yoda reached a hand to Obi-Wan's temple, nodded, and sat back with a "humph," of satisfaction. They settled in, content to wait, content to be at the side of a man dear to them all.

Morning's first light was brightening the room, tendrils slowly crawling over the figure slumped asleep in the chair, lightly snoring and senses alert. Anakin felt its warmth and his heart leaped. Padme! Then he realized he was not at home, and the figure in the bed near him was Obi-Wan. His master, not his wife. He was thankful he had not spoken aloud. His secret was still safe.

Bant slept on Obi-Wan's other side, her head on her arms, much as Anakin had spent his first hours at the Jedi's side. She opened her eyes and looked at Anakin on his other side, then turned her big silver eyes to the monitors. Nothing had changed, Anakin noticed, and Bant had nodded in silent relief. Yoda had slipped out sometime, unnoticed.

"Should we wake him?" Anakin whispered.

Bant shook her head. Sleep was what Obi-Wan needed. Sleep and time. She wanted him to get as much of it as possible.

It made no difference. The Jedi was stirring. He sighed, his eyelids fluttered, but still he did not open them.

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin whispered hopefully. He was shocked when Obi-Wan whimpered, and more so when Obi-Wan tried to sit up, only to fall weakly back against his pillow.

"Why did you threaten to kill me, Padawan?" he asked sharply.

"What!"

"You want to kill me. You said so. Only days before that you, you wouldn't let me go. You kept me here. Now you want to kill me. Why did you kill the rest of them? Even the younglings? What made you kill them all? Why do you make me fight you - I don't want to kill you, but you want to kill me. I want to know why. Why, Anakin?"

That was a strange demand. Anakin looked over at Bant, a questioning look in his eyes. Obi-Wan didn't quite seem awake, and yet -. Bant gave a shrug, and let Anakin respond, but her eyes were fixed on Obi-Wan's face, studying him.

"I only wanted you to stay in bed and not crawl around after me," Anakin said carefully.

"That is no reason to kill me," Obi-Wan whispered reproachfully.

"I'm sorry, Master."

"That's better, Padawan. Just remember, next time you plan to kill me, just do it. Don't tell me about it first. You only wounded me this time. I thought I taught you better than to leave a job half done."

"Yes, Master," Anakin said obediently. He wanted to laugh, but it wasn't really funny in the least. At least Bant didn't look too concerned. She pointed to a monitor.

"He's feverish," she said softly, bending over him and laying her hand on his cheek.

"You brought a woman to my bed!" he suddenly accused, at the sound of Bant's voice. "There's one right there."

Bant giggled. "It's Bant, Obi-Wan."

"Bant?" His confusion was obvious.

"Yes, Obi-Wan. Master Yoda and I came for you; we're going to take you to Coruscant to heal. Do you remember being hurt?"

"I don't remember anything except Anakin wanting to kill me," he replied querulously. "I don't feel at all good, Bant. I am going to sleep."

"You do that, Obi-Wan," Bant said softly. "Sleep as much as you want. Sleep will do you good."

The two Jedi slid Obi-Wan back down into bed and settled him in. They watched over Obi-Wan as he fell back to sleep, his mouth relaxing and the lines in his face smoothing out.

"Fevers bring strange dreams, Anakin," the petite Healer remarked. "It's perfectly normal."

"I wonder what made him think I killed younglings, though," Anakin said, frowning. "I've killed in battle, sure, but no younglings that I know of. I would never do so. Only a monster would kill younglings."

"What about his other question - about females? Is this something you've done before?" Bant asked shyly, and blushed at her attempt at a joke.

Anakin grinned and shook his head, a bright gleam in his eyes. "You know Obi-Wan. I would never dare to do something like that. Though it could be… interesting. That might be something that would shake him out of his Jedi calm. It would probably even do him good."

"I would advise that you don't start getting any ideas. I don't think Obi-Wan would forgive you if you tried a prank like that."

"Oh, I agree. But can't you imagine it - Obi-Wan jumping a foot or two into the air, and then politely escorting the lady to the door, thanking her for coming but declining her kind offer, then coming after me with his lightsaber?"

Bant giggled at the mental picture. "Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't use his lightsaber on you. And he certainly wouldn't drag you before the Council - the poor man would be too embarrassed to tell the story. But I'm sure he'd dream up a suitable punishment for you."

Anakin made a face. Obi-Wan was quite talented at dreaming up punishments for his padawan. It was one of his less acknowledged skills. He had had lots of experience at it, and he seemed never to run out of ideas.

Much to his friends' relief, his fever didn't run too high, but it did delay his transfer home. The three Jedi took turns sitting at Obi-Wan's bedside as he shifted fitfully in his sleep, alternately shivering and sweating as his body tried to fight off yet another assault.

Anakin reached in through their bond and found a mind filled with images of searing heat, parching and burning the youth out of the Jedi, haunted images of a black-entombed man – ominous and menacing – faceless and voiceless – and images of overwhelming grief and sorrow mixed with regret and guilt, of incomprehensible loss.

Obi-Wan was floundering in the images, trapped in fever-induced nightmares. Or so Anakin hoped. The Jedi was not given to prophetic dreams, yet there was something within the images that grabbed his own attention. He found he couldn't shake the images out of his own mind for some time.

These days, weeks - perhaps an entire lifetime - spent at Obi-Wan's side were getting to him. Sitting still, doing nothing was anathema to him. Doing so for so long, unable to help as his mentor suffered was almost as punishing to him as Obi-Wan's injuries were to the Jedi himself.

Anakin's helplessness grew into irritation, and illogically, he found himself blaming Obi-Wan for this terrible inertia. _If only Obi-Wan hadn't charged ahead; if only he hadn't tried to save his troops; if only he had just died and spared him this terrible waiting_… and Anakin drew back in absolute horror at his own thoughts. How could he even think that Obi-Wan's death would have been preferable to this time of uncertainty and pained existing?

He fled Obi-Wan's room, trying to escape the awful thoughts in his mind, ashamed of himself. He thought of talking to the other Jedi, but immediately dismissed the idea. Bant would be appalled and Master Yoda – no, that old Jedi would condemn the thoughts or utter cryptic and totally unusable phrases meant to offer some convoluted lesson.

He knew Obi-Wan valued the old Jedi's opinions. His master had often said that as muddled as Yoda's advice might sound, in time, he had learned to see the wisdom behind what seemed simple platitudes or enigmatic phrases; the deeper meaning behind what sounded so simple and confusing at the same time. He had tried to reassure his apprentice that with time, Anakin would learn to appreciate them, too, but Anakin never had. He preferred straight forward, direct instruction, not cryptic guidance.

No, neither Jedi needed to know his treacherous thoughts. If Obi-Wan was healthy and awake, perhaps he could have talked to him about them. Obi-Wan might understand and wouldn't judge him.

But Obi-Wan was far from healthy, and even should he have been in a condition to counsel Anakin, would most likely feel guilty that it was his injuries that had led to Anakin's thoughts in the first place.

The only person he could talk to about his feelings without condemnation would be Padme. Only she understood him.

When he contacted her, he looked almost as feverish as Obi-Wan, though he kept his voice well-controlled.

"What's wrong, Ani?" she demanded, sensing it was something within him, rather than Obi-Wan's condition.

Even with Padme, the words didn't want to come out. He didn't want to admit the thoughts to himself, even, though he couldn't run away from them. They just built up, the pressure pounding his skull with throbbing, pulsating aches. He needed release.

"I…I feel so guilty about my thoughts," he admitted miserably. "Master Obi-Wan is lying in bed deathly injured, though he's finally out of danger, and I…I…if he…."

"Oh, Ani," she said sympathetically. "You're mad at him for making you worry. That's not an unusual reaction, you know."

"It's not?" he asked with a half-strangled gasp, eyes uncertain yet hoping her words were true.

"Not at all, my love. There are times I'd like to shake him for worrying us, too, and then I remember he didn't ask to be hurt. He didn't ask that we worry about him, though we would anyway. I refocus on using this energy in the Senate, to try to stop this war that is the real enemy."

"It's worse than just being mad at him," he confessed shakily. "Sometimes, sometimes I wish he had just - died and gotten the pain over with."

"But you would still hurt, Ani. You would be mourning him. Even if Obi-Wan had – had died," she had to stop, just saying the words choked her, "the pain we feel for him would still be there within us. Only this way, it'll go away once he's recovered."

Tears were running down Anakin's cheeks; he was nodding in silent agreement and the knot in his heart had loosened. He wasn't a monster; he wasn't uncaring and terrible. He was just very human, and only Padme could make him see that. Not another Jedi; they didn't see the man, only the Jedi.

Maybe he wasn't the Jedi he should be, but he _was_ a good man. He held onto that thought long after their conversation ended.

When he next entered Obi-Wan's room, he felt Yoda's eyes on him. He unconsciously straightened up and returned the look, every inch the renewed Jedi he felt. He pulled a chair up to the Jedi's bed and tenderly smoothed the hair back from his eyes.

"His fever's down," he exclaimed as his hand brushed his forehead. He reached through the bond to gently touch the mind. It was quiet and serene, no longer roiling with disturbing images. He sent a soft touch of love and peace into the quiet space and smiled to himself as the Force tendril was merged with the soft waves of the Force swirling inside.

"Fever is down, yes," Yoda said quietly. "Your mind, calmer now it too is. Welcome that, I do."

Anakin raised his eyes to Yoda's – had he known all along his troubled thoughts? Yoda just looked at him, giving no hint of his thoughts, before turning his attention back to the man so quiet in the bed as he again spoke.

"Sleeping quietly he is. Healer Eerin says we can leave soon. Your master, home we bring him to recover. Accompany us you will. Battles there are many, but have need of you, Obi-Wan will. Time enough to fight. Now, time to heal it is."


	13. First Steps to Recovery

Obi-Wan was waking up.

Yoda saw it first: a slow twitch of a finger against the covers, a slightly deeper inhalation of a breath, a barely perceptible head movement against the pillow. Yoda leaned forward, supporting himself with his stick and his ears slowly swiveled as he kept his eyes affixed on the injured Jedi's face. Patiently waiting and watching.

Feeling that he was surfacing from a long and painful nightmare, Obi-Wan stirred and slowly woke to a soft bustle around him. He heard familiar voices. Anakin, of course, but also - Bant? Master Yoda? His still-drugged and sleep-confused mind sought for an explanation - hadn't he and Anakin been on a mission?

His lips barely parted as he tried to form a thought, twist it into words. A tongue moistened dry lips, and he struggled to let the words escape from the prison of a foggy mind and pained body.

A master of words…"the negotiator." He knew how to form words: he pulled the knowledge from a hazy memory, gathered his strength, and spoke. Soft and hesitant, but still words: hoarse, from a throat too long unused.

"Bant - Master Yoda… you're here," he whispered. "Why are you here? Has our mission been cancelled?"

"Remember, you do not? Where you are, or why?" Yoda put a hand on his, where it lay limply by Obi-Wan's side. His ears curled as he awaited Obi-Wan's response. Obi-Wan shook his head slowly. They waited. His nose twitched and he seemed to be listening, perhaps trying to access the Force for an explanation that his mind could not supply.

"I'm in a med center. Oh, dear." The lilt of dismay in his voice was, as much as the exclamation itself, familiar, as much a part of Obi-Wan as his "bad feelings," his sighs or quick grin.

"Why? What's happened -Anakin - are you okay?" the alarm in his voice was palpable and he turned his head weakly, seeking his apprentice.

"Sure, I'm okay," Anakin offered cheerfully.

Anakin _was_ cheerful. His world was right again; he would be all right again, because his master would be all right, again. If just for now, Anakin could forget the war, the deaths and separations from loved ones, the hollow ache of despair and grief that he had been carrying since he had first seen a battered and bloody and oh-so-still Obi-Wan lying on the ground and heard the sound of silence.

Even with his shields always half up against intrusion into areas he wished to keep hidden, Anakin had never been so alone in his own mind, experienced such silence in a bond that had never before fallen so hushed.

For as his master, his mentor, his friend fell so silent, so too had the bond. The long grasping fingers of Death had not just touched Obi-Wan, they had reached into Anakin, greedily sucking as much life into itself as it could; feeding on life, on love, and on hope.

Anakin had not been so happy since _before_ - before he been left all alone, crying on a battlefield with his master all but dead in his arms, broken and battered by a grief he never wanted to experience again.

A grief he would never experience again, once he grew strong and powerful enough with the Force. It was a vow he made to himself.

Even the moment his master had pulled him into a hug and assured him he would be okay, struggled to comfort his padawan's aching heart with a strength and determination that the pain-wracked man should not have been capable of – even that had not soothed Anakin as this lucid, if confused, voice of his master that wrapped itself into the emptiness still within him and brought light and warmth into the dark despairing depths.

"Why are you here, Bant? And Master Yoda?" Obi-Wan's voice was definitely puzzled; he was in too much pain and too weak to try to figure out why for himself.

"Hurt, you have been," the little Jedi's voice was gentle. "Come to check on you, we did."

"Oh." Obi-Wan sounded uncertain. He sighed. "What happened? I hate med centers, you know that."

"Yes, with reason. Somehow you manage to turn a simple visit into a prolonged stay," Bant laughed lightly. There wasn't a healer in the Temple who didn't know Obi-Wan by sight. If he wasn't there for himself, he had been there with his master, Qui-Gon Jinn or his padawan, Anakin Skywalker.

"You were caught in a blast and thrown about, practically getting yourself killed in the process," Anakin explained soberly. "We didn't, uh; we didn't think you would make it."

"Oh," he murmured, but it was obvious Obi-Wan wasn't quite grasping it yet and didn't have the strength to care. "Oh…," he said again, sucking in his breath against the pain as he huddled deeper into the bed.

"Obi-Wan, can you release the pain? You remember how, don't you? Accept it, that's it, now breathe it out, and let it go…." Bant encouraged him. Obi-Wan's ragged breathing slowed and steadied as he settled back against the pillow with a shaky nod, though he was white and shaking and his face drawn and covered with a sheen of moisture from the left over dregs of pain.

"Okay… I'm okay," he whispered shakily as Anakin took his hand in his and carefully stroked it. Under his thumb, the skin of Obi-Wan's hand felt and looked as fragile as the wings on a fairy flitter, and Anakin kept his touch little more than a feather touch, almost afraid that any pressure would pierce the thin skin into the tracery of blue veins below.

After his breathing steadied, he spoke again.

"Anakin, you were here – before – you were crying, and then you held me."

"You remember that, Master?" Anakin was surprised, and inordinately pleased, though he wasn't sure that it was a good idea for Master Yoda to hear that he was crying. He didn't think the master would approve of crying Jedi.

The Jedi nodded in confirmation, grasping Anakin's hand with a weak grip. "I remember…holding you, then you were holding me. That's all I remember."

Not just the memory itself, but the knowledge that Obi-Wan remembered it, filled the young Jedi's heart with a warm glow that banished the last of the guilt and shame he carried for his earlier thoughts.

"Oh, so you don't remember that you were crying, too?" Anakin said, looking sideways at Yoda, pleased at finally being able to tease his master.

"Was I?" Obi-Wan said vaguely, feeling suddenly worn out. "Possibly."

A hint of a grin touched his lips, however, before he settled back into the pillow with a soft sigh.

Bant cleared her throat. Much as she enjoyed watching the affectionate banter between master and padawan, there were still things that needed to be attended to, caretaking of that wounded body that required attention.

"Obi-Wan, I'd like to check your dressings, if you don't mind." Bant turned and indicated that Yoda and Anakin should leave the room. She knew how uncomfortable Obi-Wan felt when his personal modesty seemed to be threatened. She turned back to her friend and pressed her hand to his cheek.

"We're taking you home to the Temple, Obi-Wan, in a day or so, after we think you're stable enough. Would you like me to call in a medical droid or another healer to check your dressings and tubes?" she asked delicately. "I'm sure you'd prefer I not do so. I was hoping we could do it before you woke."

Obi-Wan merely lay with his eyes closed and didn't respond. Bant thought at first he was asleep again, and her hands were just touching the opening of his hospital gown when he weakly answered her.

"It's okay, go ahead," he finally muttered, uncaring. It was a clue to just how weak and sick he was. The request barely registered with him.

He might be too weak to care, but Bant would spare him as much embarrassment as possible. Her gentle hands softly peeled back his hospital gown and checked the healing incisions. The skin of his chest had lost its bruised look and the incisions were pink and puckered, no longer the jagged and torn edges they had started as before surgery. She pulled the gown back together; pleased the external wounds were healing.

Obi-Wan flinched, but lay still, though a slight flush brightened the pale face as she then slid the gown up to lay bare his lower body up to the top of his leg. When she delicately touched his thigh to check his shattered leg, he squeezed his already closed eyes tighter as if just now recognizing the import of her prior question and wishing he had agreed to her offer.

'I'm sorry, Obi," Bant said, using her healer's noncommittal voice to try to minimize his discomfiture as she made sure everything was draining properly before drawing the gown back into place.

"So, Obi-Wan, how do you feel?" she asked as she sat down, laying a hand on his forehead and reaching _in_ with the Force at the same time to check his repaired internal organs.

"Not so good," he admitted, the words slow and slurred. "Terrible, actually. What happened to my arm? And my leg, too - something's holding them down, I can't move them."

Bant had noticed that Obi-Wan still hadn't opened his eyes. She had never seen that particular reaction before.

"Why don't you open your eyes and look?" she suggested.

"Is that why I can't see?" he asked, genuinely surprised and suddenly sounding somewhat more alert.

"That seems reasonable to me," Bant laughed gently.

She waited. Obi-Wan looked puzzled, then unhappy. "They didn't open, did they? Or am I blind?"

"You haven't opened your eyes," she reassured him.

"Oh, that's good, then. Why can't I open them?"

"There is no physical reason you can't, Obi-Wan."

He lay silently, reflecting on her words. "So you are saying that I _won't_ open my eyes? Why wouldn't I?"

"Maybe you're afraid?" On the face of it, it was absurd. Obi-Wan afraid? Never.

He mulled the thought over, dismissed it. "Why should I be afraid? I've seen wounds before, even my own. I'm not afraid to see what I look like. Can't be any worse than I looked the morning after Anakin talked me into going…" A pained smile of remembrance touched his lips.

The day _after_ had cured him of taking on any dare from his padawan. Anakin had escaped a stern lecture on dragging his master to places like that for the simple reason that neither of them had been in any shape to communicate in any manner the following day.

When Obi-Wan had recovered enough to remember he had a working mind and all appendages actually worked and obeyed his commands, he had all but decided to ground Anakin for life. The fact that he was at least functioning, albeit at less than full efficiency while his padawan continued suffering in such sweet torment, had made him decide Anakin was already paying for both their indiscretions.

They had never spoken of that evening.

Bant sighed in disappointment. Apparently Obi-Wan wasn't going to spill the beans on what had caused the two of them to return giggling and disheveled, singing in surprisingly good two piece harmony and not in the least intoxicated while showing all signs of the same.

"What do you remember?" Bant asked.

He grinned. It was a very small grin. "Pain. Lots of it."

"Do you remember what caused it?"

Obi-Wan tried, he really did, but he couldn't quite focus the memory. He said slowly, "I was - I remember an explosion. Noise - I thought I was exploding. A flash of light. It blinded me. It burned my eyes…oh!" The realization hit him. He brought a hand up to touch his eyes.

"Am I blind, Bant?" His voice was steady, but his hand was tightly clenched.

"I don't know, Obi-Wan. We haven't seen your eyes, yet. Let me see them." Bant bent over him and gently touched a lid, it felt normal. She grasped his lashes to raise the lid, but Obi-Wan flinched and pulled his head away.

"Obi-Wan, I can't tell you anything until I see your eyes."

"I'm sorry, Bant. I just can't - not right now." He moved restlessly, tried to smile at her. "I need time, okay?"

"Of course, Obi-Wan. We'll have an eye healer check you out when you're ready." Now that she knew the problem, Bant knew she could wait until Obi-Wan was asleep. If his eyes were okay, she could reassure him when he next woke up. If they weren't, well, she would wait until Obi-Wan was ready to know.

"I'm sorry, Bant," he whispered.

"Don't be ashamed, Obi,' Bant said gravely. "I understand…you're in too much pain to be brave."

"I'm not much of a Jedi, am I?" he admitted, facing the unhappy truth. "I know Master Yoda will be disappointed in me. You probably are, too."

"No, Obi, I'm not disappointed in you,' Bant said gently, dropping a kiss on Obi-Wan's forehead. His fingers reached out, intertwined with hers and she held their clasped hands tight.

"You barely survived terrible injuries; a broken leg, arm, ribs, internal injuries – knock on the head - you need to focus on getting well, not worry about whether you're a good Jedi or not. You _are_ a good Jedi, Obi-Wan. But right now, you're a very sick man and that's all you should be worrying about – getting well."

The last thing Obi-Wan needed to worry about was if he was a good Jedi. He needed to focus his thoughts on healing his body, not his supposed lapse in courage.

Bant just sat beside him, holding Obi-Wan's hand tightly within hers.


	14. A Jedi Faces His Fears

"How is our Obi-Wan?" It was Yoda, coming back into the room, his inquiring eyes turned to Bant. To his surprise, Obi-Wan was the one to answer him.

"I'm okay," the Jedi managed to muster a weak smile, though he kept his head turned away, still half ashamed of his reluctance to know the truth about his eyes. "I'd like to sleep, if you don't mind."

"Very well, sleep you need. Let you, we will," the old Jedi assured him. "Soon, we leave for Coruscant." Yoda turned questioning eyes to Bant; he sensed that Obi-Wan was holding something back – struggling with something he didn't have the strength yet to face.

Bant just shook her head. "Later," she mouthed. "He'll be asleep shortly."

Despite what he'd told Yoda, Obi-Wan fought sleep, his mind a welter of emotions mixed with pain. Pain he clenched his teeth against, tried to banish with his will and release into the Force. But the pain was stronger than he, and soon he succumbed to it and slipped back into unconsciousness.

Bant sat at his side, her free hand absently smoothing his hair back from his forehead. She continued to hold Obi-Wan's hand entwined with hers. It was obvious to Yoda that Bant was concerned. He waited until she turned her eyes to his and nodded.

"Worried you are. A problem, we have?" He leaned on his stick and watched her carefully.

"Maybe. Have you noticed he has not opened his eyes, not even once?"

"Seen that, I have. A problem this is?"

"I don't know. From what he said, the blast was pretty strong and the flash must have been blinding. When he remembered that, he seemed to flinch. I don't know if his eyes were damaged, but I think he won't open his eyes for fear that they are."

"Fear a Jedi must face, and release it," Yoda said soberly.

"Of course. He knows it, too. It's just too soon; he just realized why he can't open his eyes. He has just named this fear; he can't face it yet. But I'm no healer of the mind, I could be totally wrong about that."

The little Jedi was silent, and then agreed. "Give him time, we will. But face it, he must. Does young Skywalker know of this?"

"He wasn't here; we just now spoke of it. No."

"Speak of this we will not. Give Obi-Wan time, we will. It is his place to speak, or not, to young Skywalker, until more we know."

"I can have an eye healer check his eyes when he's asleep," Bant hesitated before speaking.

The little Jedi master pondered this a moment, then his ears drooped and he shook his head.

"Better to let him alone for now. Rush him into knowledge we should not. Has much courage, our Obi-Wan does, to face that which he must, so time we give him. Time to start healing, in much pain still he is."

Bant nodded at the master's words. They mirrored her own thoughts. It was true, normally Obi-Wan would not flinch at facing the truth, but he was still in bad shape and not yet capable of facing the possibility of blindness. If it were anyone but a Jedi - anyone but Obi-Wan - she would say his recovery was not yet assured and the prognosis uncertain.

This, though, was Obi-Wan, and he had successfully faced equally grim odds and triumphed - indeed, the tougher the odds, the better he fared.

There was no doubt in her mind that Obi-Wan was beginning the slow path to healing.

"Something else you wish to say?" The little master prodded. As Bant hesitated, a grave look came over Yoda's face, and he reached out and patted Obi-Wan's hand.

"Disappointed in him, he thinks we are, is he? Lacking in courage?" There was a hint of amusement in his voice. "Too insensitive of human frailties, he is, always must he be the perfect Jedi and never will he succeed."

"Too sensitive to his own perceived faults," Bant corrected, "and therefore determined to overcome them."

"As tried so hard he did to correct them in his young padawan," Yoda nodded.

"Thank the Force he finally gave up on that," Bant chuckled. "It was that, or the two of them killing each other."

* * *

The door to Obi-Wan's room opened and Anakin pretended to stumble in under the weight of his burden, only to stop short as he saw that Obi-Wan was not awake, but asleep. Asleep, lying relaxed in slumber - no longer the absolute stillness of unconsciousness that had gripped him so long as he struggled merely to live, but mere sleep.

A sleep that brought healing with it – whispers of life, not of struggles for the same.

"Oops," Anakin muttered, fearing that his preceding "Hi, Master" might wake him.

"Gee, I'm sorry," he said in abject apology, looking at Bant as Obi-Wan stirred at his words and his head moved restlessly on the pillow.

"Before speaking one should think, if no look," Yoda said, frowning. "Rest he needs."

"Don't be too hard on him, Master Yoda." It was Obi-Wan, voice husky with sleep, but firm despite its weakness. "I owe my life to him, from what I hear."

"Well," Anakin grinned, waving his hand airily, but he quickly sobered, thinking of how hard the Jedi had fought to live. He aimed his next words at the two Jedi. "Maybe, but if Master Obi-Wan wasn't so stubborn and determined to remain my master by living, he wouldn't be here now."

"Oh, spare me," Obi-Wan muttered dryly. "I wouldn't wish to bequeath you to another Jedi. After all you've put me through; I want that braid of yours. I earned it."

"Sure, sure, Master, and what do I get from you for taking such good care of you?" the young man grinned impishly. "Oh, these cloaks are a gift from the Skorean Council. Wouldn't take no for an answer. Cloaks for us all. Just feel that material."

Obi-Wan obediently tried to raise his hand and reach to it, but fell back with a pained grunt as his chest protested the pull against healing skin and mending ribs. Anakin bit his lip, amusement replaced by worry for the Jedi's face was again pinched with pain. Eyes full of compassion and concern, Anakin dropped his bundle unnoticed to the floor and reached out to catch Obi-Wan's hand and lay it back down gently onto the bedside.

"Pain medicine wearing off?" Bant asked with a gentle hand on Obi-Wan's cheek. He offered a slow and unsteady nod in agreement, his breath shuddering through him. "Can you release it as before, Obi?"

"Try…ing," he breathed, a sharp intake of breath hissing through him. "Not…not working. Sorry." A faint flush suffused the pale face at his failure.

The watching Jedi could see he tried, but was only partially successful. His distress echoed through the bond, though the Jedi tried to shield Anakin by closing it– it was not as intense as his earlier pain when no one knew if the Jedi would live or die - but disturbing enough. Anakin rubbed Obi-Wan's hand as it lay tightly clenched by his side, then lightly squeezed it reassuringly, even as he looked to Bant.

"Can't you give him something?" Anakin asked, his distraught eyes beseeching Bant. She only shook her head and mouthed, "Not for a while yet," but her eyes were troubled.

"Master, channel it through me," Anakin urged. "I can release it for you, if you let me feel it with you through the bond."

Obi-Wan slowly raised a shaky hand to Anakin's cheek and lightly touched it, trying to smile. "Padawan…appreciate all…thank you. Don't want…to hurt you."

Yoda, who had been quietly observing, walked over to Obi-Wan's side and laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"Permit me will you, to put you to sleep?" he asked softly, to gurgle lightly at the hint of mixed shame and bravado he felt through the Force. "No shame there is, young Obi-Wan, that find release you cannot. Sleep now, the pain you will release. Sleep." He reinforced the gentle command. Once he was sure the command had been obeyed, he looked sorrowfully at the other two Jedi.

"Much pain he has suffered. Born it bravely, he has. Much your master has endured for you, and you for him," this last directed at Anakin. "Commend you both I do. Done well, you have, young padawan."

With that, Yoda turned and tapped out of the room, leaving Anakin to stare after him. "Well," was about all he could manage to say. It was the first time he could remember receiving the old Jedi's approval.

* * *

"Bant." Obi-Wan spoke her name as she peeked in at him. Feeling her astonishment, a small smile played around his lips as he explained, "I felt your Force presence. Come on in - Bant, I think I'm ready to try to open my eyes."

"Try?" she teased him, coming up to his side.

"Try, there is no try. Only do, or do not," they chanted in unison and smiled at each other.

"Are you sure?"

"I don't have a choice. What if I can see?" He spoke softly, a note of hesitation in his voice.

"What if you can't?"

Obi-Wan grimaced, "Then at least I'll know. I don't like uncertainty."

That was certainly true, Bant knew. She hated to say it, given the lack of response, but she had to. Her voice was so soft she wasn't sure he heard her words. "Obi-Wan. You've already got your eyes open."

"They _are_ open?" He dreaded hearing the answer.

"Yes. You can't see me?" Her silver eyes softened with his disappointment, mirroring her own.

"No," he whispered. "I don't see anything. So I am blind…well, then."

When she didn't answer, he grabbed for her hands, wrapped his hands around hers. Everything about him radiated determination and calm strength, as well as a reach for an acceptance he knew he would find, even if he hadn't yet achieved it.

"It's okay. So I can't see - I have other senses. I still have the Force. I'll be okay, Bant." He was pushing away his fear; trying to reassure her despite his own apprehension.

Of course he would be okay. Obi-Wan was one of the most determined Jedi Bant had ever known. He had known Tahl, when she had been a capable and valuable Jedi, and blind. He knew he still could function. But never as he once had.

Bant softened her voice. "Do you want to be left alone?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, slowly at first, then more determinedly. "No. No, just sit by me. Just - be here, please."

"Of course, Obi-Wan."

"Don't tell Anakin."

"Why not? He'll know soon enough. We can't keep it a secret, Obi-Wan."

"Not yet. Please." He thought back to Tahl, how bewildered and hurt his master, Qui-Gon Jinn, had been at the news that his friend had lost her sight. Tahl had adapted well and remained a valuable Jedi until her death; she had been far quicker to accept her limitations than Qui-Gon, who never quite had.

Obi-Wan had admired her. Qui-Gon had never quite gotten over his hurt on her behalf.

Obi-Wan wanted Anakin better prepared to hear the news - to know what a blind Jedi was capable of; not what he could no longer do: his abilities, not his limitations. Now was not the time.

He was too weak to do anything. He couldn't even sit up without assistance. Even his mind was sometimes a welter of confusion mixed with pain, while sometimes it was clear. But that was only part of the reason.

He faced the truth: it was also that he just didn't know how to tell Anakin. Or, if he could. But the news had to come from him, not from another.

He barely heard Bant say she would call in an eye healer to check Obi-Wan's sight and confirm or dispute their diagnosis.

* * *

The eye healer had come. His noncommittal manner had left no assurances behind him. Obi-Wan's eyes were not irreparably damaged, but whether time and healing would restore his sight was beyond his pronouncement. If Obi-Wan would see again or not, he would not hazard a guess, for it was quite possible – and quite possible that he never would.

"What are the odds?" Obi-Wan had asked, finally, when the healer had given his opinion.

"I don't give odds," the healer said. "The eyes themselves are uninjured, just as we found when you were first brought in. But the effects of the swelling, and how your brain reacted to everything facing it – well, only time itself will tell. I would not be doing my job as a healer if I withheld hope, or encouraged false hope, either."

Obi-Wan nodded in silent acceptance of the healer's words. He didn't want to be blind, he admitted to himself. He had always been proud of his keen eyesight. He delighted in what his eyes often showed him: a flower growing in a crack of a wall, the pleased smile of his padawan when his master complimented him on something he had done well, or such scenic vistas as greeted them coming out of hyperspace. Things he might never see or delight in again.

It was difficult to face the absence of all that. He would have to find another way to face it: focus not on what he didn't have, but amend his focus to that which he still had.

Surely he could hear a smile in Anakin's voice, feel his friends concern in their gentle touches, or smell a flower's sweet fragrance. With that realization, the knot of pain within him eased a bit. He could adapt, he knew. In time, he would.

* * *

Obi-Wan lay against his pillow, seeking an inner peace that as yet eluded him, as Bant sat quietly at his side, lost in thought. She was so deep in thought that she jumped just a bit when Obi-Wan spoke past her in greeting.

"Anakin, come to pay your old master a visit, finally?" he teased, a bit of strain in his voice that Bant saw went unmarked by Anakin.

"I'm wounded, Master, wounded - have you forgotten already that I was just here a few hours ago?" Anakin said flippantly. "With your memory for all things big and small, I know you're still pretty sick to even ask that question."

"Knowing my usual pattern around healers, I'll be sicker before I'm well," Obi-Wan muttered unhappily. "I'm going to try to fool them this time, and be up on my feet shortly."

"Only with someone holding onto you, and not for some time, yet," Bant scolded. Obi-Wan turned alarmed eyes on her; as much as pleading that she drop that line of talk. Bant ignored his look and went blithely on, as much for Anakin's sake as well as Obi-Wan's.

"Your leg will be quite weak for some time, Obi-Wan, you can't expect to just get up and start walking on it, especially after lying in bed for so long – your muscles won't even support you," she explained, and turned to look over her shoulder.

"Anakin, why don't you check to see if any paperwork is left, and let the Temple know that we'll be bringing Obi-Wan home tomorrow morning." She waited until Anakin left the room, before speaking again.

Turning back to Obi-Wan, she remarked softly, "Silly Jedi. You really are going to be much too weak to stand, let alone walk, by yourself for quite some time. Has nothing to do with your eyesight. Don't worry that that little comment will clue Anakin in. But he will find out, and I don't think he'll forgive you if you're not the one to tell him, and soon."

"I…I can't," Obi-Wan whispered, passing a hand over his eyes. "I don't want him to worry any more than necessary. The eye healer said it might only be temporary."

"Oh, Obi - 'might' be, but we don't really know," Bant burst out helplessly. Obi-Wan carefully reached out a hand and brushed a tear away from her eyes with a gentle thumb.

"No. No, we don't," he said quietly. "But it will be all right, no matter what. I have faith in the Force that whatever happens, it will be okay. So must you."

The words she had spoken to Anakin came back to her. "I'll always have faith in you, Obi-Wan. If you ever lose faith in yourself, just come to me. I have enough to share."

"I'll remember that. Thanks, Bant, thank you for being such a good friend." He whispered, overcome with emotion that for once he had no desire to bury or quickly release. He reached out and clasped her hand tightly.

"Anything for you, Obi, anything," Bant said. "You're my dearest friend, you know, and I'll always be here for you."

The truth of that was found in their deep hug.


	15. The Living Force

Anakin was thrilled. Home, they were going home.

He would be happy to see the Temple again, but home now was only wherever Padme was. Home was where he was free of expectations, free to indulge in his emotions and free to be nothing more than a man: a husband home with the wife he loved dearly.

Free from the dictates of the Council, of his master, of his colleagues.

Free to love, to be loved, and free of expectations.

Home with Padme. Surely, while the healers kept Obi-Wan under their watchful eyes, he would be granted leave. Allowed the taste of freedom he deserved from the constant servitude the life of a Jedi demanded, and the incessant horrors of war.

No more screams of the wounded, only his wife's whispers against his ears. No more holding bandages against bleeding wounds, only tender hands holding his wife within them. No more smelling of the acrid odor of energy blasts, only the perfumed aroma wafting around his wife that tickled his nostrils with its musky soft scent as her long hair spread around him, untamed as were they both in the throes of passion.

Home, where he and Padme were free to be themselves – not the "Hero Without Fear" and "Senator Amidala" but only Anakin and Padme; free from the unceasing demands that kept them apart.

Home, in his wife's loving arms where nothing mattered except the two of them.

While gathering his and Obi-Wan's things from their temporary quarters – Anakin gave a little sigh as he looked around, wishing he had more time to indulge in the luxury of such accommodations – he had one last conversation with Padme.

"Padme, we're finally bringing Obi-Wan back home. We're leaving. I'm really coming home to you."

"That's so wonderful, Ani. Will you get some leave? Perhaps we could, even, go to Naboo?" Padme's face grew wistful, and Anakin was sure she was thinking of the lakeside home where they had fallen in love, and where they had been married.

Anakin brightened. Naboo was Anakin's paradise, not the icy peaks overlooking stony meadows and babbling creeks of Skore that had so delighted his master.

He remembered the stately Naberrie home, with its wide veranda overlooking such an expanse of blue water as to nearly overwhelm him, and the view stretching to mountainous peaks in the distance. Urns of colorful flowers softened the hard stone balustrades, the whole uniting with the views to create a visual delight.

He had learned to be comfortable around water and how to swim at the Temple, but with Padme, comfort turned to enjoyment. Warm, lapping waves sighed against his skin as he and Padme swam to the grass carpeted island where she had so often gone as a youngster. There alone, under nature's canopy, they had explored how best to provide joy to the other, and let the sun warm their skin as they slept relaxed in each other's arms after passion was spent.

Anakin had learned the delight of matching love to passion in Padme's arms, and found that _making love_ was so much more than he had ever known it could be.

When rain or fog pulled a curtain of gray over the distance and wrapped them in a snug blanket, Anakin almost preferred the cozy warmth that came with snuggling by a large fireplace or under fluffy comforters. It gave them a sense of isolation from the real world that normally demanded so much of them.

He was happy either way – alone under an expansive, smiling sky, or tucked quietly within a gentle cocoon of warmth as rain battered against the roof and dripped from its eaves as they remained dry and cozy inside.

He was all set to answer with a resounding yes, and then his face dropped as reality set in.

"I hope so, but I don't know yet. It might look kind of strange if I leave the Temple, let alone the planet, while Obi-Wan is recovering – he's not at all healthy yet – and I'm not even sure I'd want to leave him at this time. Maybe a little later, when he's feeling better. Maybe then I can irritate Obi-Wan with so much kindness he orders me away from him so he can get a nice, quiet rest." His smile was mischievous as he thought of the possibilities.

Padme's soft trill of laughter thrilled him. "Only you could irritate him with either stubbornness or kindness."

"Hey, woman," he protested. "I'm not irritating – he gets irritated. Hear the difference?"

"Oh, that's right," Padme teased him. "You are the perfect padawan at all times."

"Of course." Anakin grinned, and then decided to admit his version of the truth. "In truth, I just decided to stop pushing his buttons so often. My ears were getting tired of listening to his scolding, so I decided to hold my tongue sometimes."

"You shouldn't have baited him so much, Anakin, he's your master and therefore far wiser and worthy of your respect." Padme said with every evidence of sincerity, only to break into peals of laughter at Anakin's look of surprise.

* * *

"Ready to go home, Obi-Wan?" Bant asked, her mouth close to Obi-Wan's ears. He had shown signs of wakening. They had given him a good dose of pain medicine so he wouldn't feel the slight, inevitable jostle of the move, before removing the IV, the heart machine leads and all the other connections that had so for long anchored the Jedi to the med center, to life.

"Home?" he murmured, coming fully awake as he registered her words, and a smile spread over his lips. "Home. I like the sound of that. It's been a long time."

Bant's cool fingers touched his cheek. "Yes, it has," she said gently. She stood back as the medical droids carefully moved Obi-Wan from the bed to the waiting gravstretcher.

For a brief moment the Jedi felt light as a feather as the pressure under his hips, back and head briefly disappeared, until he was settled onto another yielding surface. Only this one had not the almost comfortable hollows and warmth of a spot worn to match his body.

He even felt lighter in spirit as if the removal of leads and wires were a sign that he was now recovering. He knew now how close he had come to dying. Had died, really, since he now knew his heart had stopped beating, more than once actually, and his breathing had stopped.

Most of his time there in the med center had passed in a hazy, pain-filled blur. Anakin, his faithful padawan, had suffered the most – awake, grieving, in pain – during those long days. Anakin, who had stayed by his side, tried to alleviate his pain, and willed him to live.

Bant had told him all that, not Anakin. He knew there was more – had to be more - of a story behind Anakin's caretaking of his spirit as the healers had taken care of his body, but Anakin had not spoken of it. Echoes and traces of strain lingered within the bond, even now, as if Anakin was still suffering from the long weeks at his side.

With this in mind, and attributing all the remnants of such to Anakin's vigil over him, Obi-Wan made sure to protect his padawan from the residual pain he felt, as well as his apprehension over his vision and his ability to adapt by keeping his shields up – lightly, but firmly to avoid any leakage into the bond.

As much as he wished he could confide in his padawan how _unsettling_ he found the possibility of permanent blindness, to have Anakin reassure him and tease him into an acceptance of the possibilities ahead of him, he didn't want to burden the young man with yet another problem not his own. Anakin had his own burdens to bear, and they lay heavy on his shoulders, for Anakin had lost much of his youthful exuberance and zest for life.

Constant battles, the expectations that as the "Chosen One," he had a fate he could not escape, and now his injured master's inability to try to guide him through this period had left Anakin stressed and worn.

He was still the master and the one who needed to be strong. He could not be the one to lean on one who bore his own burdens and sorrows.

_A burden shared is a burden halved_, he could hear Qui-Gon's words echo in his mind. But half another's burden might be too much for the young man; Obi-Wan would spare him however much he could. If anything, he wished he could lighten Anakin's burdens, but at the least, he could avoid adding to them.

Obi-Wan was grateful for his padawan's care, and determined to find some way to reward him, some quiet way to show his appreciation. Anakin deserved some rest, some fun, some release from the past year and all its pain and grief.

* * *

"I won't be sorry to leave this place," Obi-Wan remarked with a grimace as they moved him onto a gravstretcher for the trip to the Jedi transport at the landing pad. It had seemed to take an impossibly long time to disconnect him from all the monitors and machines as they prepared him.

"I thought you liked this place?" Anakin leaned over him and whispered. He was grinning.

"I like the planet; I do not like their Med Center any better than any other I've been in." Obi-Wan dissented.

"A good place to die, you said," Anakin shuddered. "Force, master, don't you ever say such a thing again. It came too close to being true."

"I still agree with the sentiment," Obi-Wan patted his hand. Anakin didn't notice the touch was a bit hesitant, as if the Jedi wasn't sure of his target. "However, I am just as pleased not to put that sentiment into practice. I plan on doing a lot more living."

"You'd better," Anakin threatened. "I'll come after you and drag you back from the ten hells of Corellia if I have to. You're not leaving me again. After all, you promised you'd never leave me."

"I did, didn't I," Obi-Wan smiled in sudden remembrance.

_His heart had been broken and shattered as he held a dying Qui-Gon in his arms, who with his last breath, had asked Obi-Wan to take care of the boy. Anakin. He would have said anything, done anything to ease the passing of his beloved master. He had agreed, blindly, as he would have to anything that Qui-Gon could have asked of him then._

_His heart had been empty, once his grief had left him. He had filled the emptiness with his promise. The boy, once a rival or so it seemed, for his master's affections, was now the only thing he had left of Qui-Gon. He had clung to the boy almost as Anakin had clung to him. _

_Even before their return to the Temple, he had realized what he was doing and chided himself for such a response. Anakin could not substitute for his master. He had tried to walk a fine line: to take care of but not care too deeply for the boy. _

_Then had come the nightmares, the wash of tears when Anakin finally admitted his deepest fear: of being left alone. Again. Of Obi-Wan leaving him, as had so many others._

"_If you leave me too, who'll take care of me?" Anakin had asked, teary-eyed, and clung to Obi-Wan, small arms tight around the Jedi's neck. Instinctively, his arms went around the boy and he hugged him close, wanting to banish his fears._

_That was when he had made that promise. I will never leave you, Anakin, not until you are capable of taking care of yourself. _

_The trust in those blue eyes had made him feel, for the first time, a master. Anakin's master. Anakin, his padawan. _

_For the first time in weeks, he had smiled. Really smiled. And been happy, once again._

Obi-Wan knew the second he was free from the Med Center, out on the landing pad. The Living Force suddenly flooded him.

All of his senses, except for his sight, tingled with life. He hadn't realized how separate from life he had been, tethered in a sterile, regulated environment where nothing assaulted him as did the Living Force now moving within him.

He sighed with pleasure when he felt the cool warmth of a morning sun caress his face and the fragrance of a late fall day filled his nostrils. Air: wonderful, fresh, alive. He sniffed appreciatively.

And the sounds. Some birds sang overheard and a few krakows raucously squawked and screamed.

Alive. He heard, and he felt, and he breathed in the essence of life - and he smiled. All of his senses – danced with life, and that which he couldn't see, his memories reminded him of.

And he was a part of it. He was alive, just as everything around him was alive. And he laughed suddenly, soft chuckles let free to join in the life he felt around him.

He hadn't realized the artificiality of the sterile realm that had cradled his broken body, how his body rhythms had seemed attuned more to machines than the pulse of living life itself. For a moment, he felt born into a wonderful living universe, and he was free from pain for the first time in longer than he could remember.

_Be mindful of the Living Force_, his master had so often reminded him. _Yes, master_, he thought. _I have lost touch with it but I have now regained it_.

"You've got the silliest look on your face, Master," Anakin said, shaking his head at his master. "You actually look happy for once." He suddenly stopped and looked suspiciously at Obi-Wan. "Are you _humming_ under your breath, Master?"

"I don't hum, Anakin," Obi-Wan said firmly. "You might wish to get your ears checked out. I do believe you're hearing things."

He hummed quieter, for his ears alone.

It took less than a minute to cross the small open space, leaving behind the fresh air of Skore before they had Obi-Wan into the Jedi ship, and only another few minutes to transfer the Jedi into a bunk.

"Comfy, Obi?" Bant asked as she expertly hooked up an IV bag and tucked a blanket over Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan sighed gloomily. "You're not going to stick all those wires and things all over me again, are you? I assure you my heart is beating just fine, my lungs continue to function and whatever else those machines were monitoring continues to work just fine."

"If you don't want us to know if any of that stuff stops working, okay," Bant said, and was rewarded with a scowl. She giggled. "No, Obi, you don't need all that stuff anymore. Only a few, okay?"

Anakin stood out of the way watching as Bant got the Jedi settled in, a small smile on his face even as Obi-Wan grumbled at Bant and "medical quackery" as he termed it. It was nice to know that his padawan wasn't the only one that Obi-Wan groused at, though it was educational to see that Bant was able to quiet him with nothing more than a, "Stop being so grumpy, Obi. It doesn't work with me."

Anakin nodded to himself. He would have to try that approach someday.

Maybe Obi-Wan was ready for a little teasing.

"We don't need machines to tell us you're alive, Master, your grumbling tells us that," Anakin chided. "Stop giving Bant a hard time. Be nice to us for all the worry you've put us through. No grumbles, but I'll allow you your 'bad feelings' because I've learned to ignore them." He crossed his arms and grinned down at the Jedi.

"Ignore at your own risk, you mean," Obi-Wan muttered. "I usually have to save your skin when you ignore them, or you have to save mine because you got me into trouble by not paying attention to them."

Maybe Obi-Wan _wasn't_ ready for a little teasing.

"R & R at last," Anakin said, rolling his eyes and quickly changing the subject. "Your way of getting it is not the recommended way to get it, though, Master, so I wouldn't try repeating this in future

"You will get the rest and I the recuperation," Obi-Wan said pointedly. "They'll just stick me in Coruscant Med Center until they allow me back into the Temple. You, my apprentice, will have to behave yourself until my return."

"Actually, Obi, Master V'keny thinks you've made remarkable progress, and has decided to let you come to the Temple instead of the Med Center's Trauma Unit," Bant said cheerily. "She says she can't wait to get her hands on you."

Obi-Wan groaned and turned red. "She's got cold hands." He pretended to shudder. "And she calls me 'handsome'."

"I know," Bant said sympathetically. "She said she'd warm her hands up for you since you're so weak."

"What's this about calling you 'handsome'?" Anakin asked with a huge grin on his face. Not only "handsome," but his master blushed. Definitely interesting: Master V'keny must be a couple of decades older than Obi-Wan.

"Oh…ah, just something she calls some of the male Jedi," Obi-Wan said weakly, trying to pass it off as something unremarkable. "Means nothing."

"She's never called _me_ that," Anakin grumbled.

"Nope." Bant shook her head with her own grin and winked at Anakin. "She saves that just for your master, Anakin. He can be so self-effacing and humble sometimes, that she thought his ego needed boosting. Of course, that was before she actually got to know him."

At that, Obi-Wan snorted, but he listened to Bant's recounting of the story with a grin.

"The first time she called him that, Obi-Wan looked absolutely wretched, about as bad as he did when we arrived on Skore. So she called him 'handsome,' and has ever since."

"She does have a sense of humor," Obi-Wan agreed.

"She says she can't wait to get a hold of you and scold you for scaring her staff half to death. She says if you'd died, they would have had to reduce staffing levels, but as it is, they're readying a room just for you. Personally, I think she just wants to keep her own eye on you; the Temple is about as well equipped as the Trauma Unit is to care for you."

"Oh, Force,' the Jedi muttered. "Stick me up there and I'll have a relapse, or catch something. I just know it."

"We could stick you in isolation," Bant suggested, giggling.

"Are you trying to cure me, or bore me to death?" he demanded with a grin. "Anakin, aren't you going to save me from a fate worse than death?"

"Nope," Anakin grinned and crossed his arms.

"Fine Padawan you are," Obi-Wan muttered.

If anything, Anakin's grin grew wider. "That I am," he agreed. "Best one you'll ever have." Obi-Wan just groaned and shook his head.


	16. Recuperation

Coruscant glittered against the deep darkness of space as the ship broke out of hyperspace. A planet that never slept, artificial illumination made the planet sparkle like a rich dowager's bauble when its night side was viewed from near orbit, a pattern the ship held to until allowed to thread its way through the traffic lanes. It arrowed in to the Jedi Temple as the golden light of a setting sun set its towers aglow.

The highest tower of the Jedi Temple was rimmed in gold and pink, the sunset light reflecting off its windows. For the fanciful, it stood as a welcoming beacon, a light against encroaching night, lighting the way home for one of its long absent and nearly forever lost inhabitants.

Anakin was piloting, for the original pilot had returned to the Temple for another assignment once the Council decided that Anakin would return with his master. Stretched thin with the war, it was the prudent thing to do with their resources.

The ship slowly settled onto the landing platform and Anakin headed aft with a grin on his face.

"You're home, Master, safe and sound – piloted as you were by your extremely capable padawan. Too bad you couldn't see the sunset, since you like them so much," he teased, walking into the cabin where Bant was getting Obi-Wan ready for the transfer.

He didn't understand the brief look of alarm that crossed his master's face at his words, but Obi-Wan's response was mild enough, when he remarked that he had seen plenty of sunsets and missing one was not going to cause him irreparable harm.

"If I was at a viewing panel, I probably would have been wincing at how many ships you cut off and wondering if Coruscant traffic control was about to complain again," Obi-Wan added with a small grin, once he stifled his alarm at Anakin's words about not seeing. "I'm sure the Council appreciates its respite from such complaints for the last year or so while we've been off fighting."

"What complaints?" Anakin asked in all innocence. "Did you ever mention any to me?"

"I had more important matters to speak to you about than traffic issues," Obi-Wan returned with a grimace. "Such as caution, control, and not taking foolish chances. That applied to your flying as well as to a few other things I was trying to impress on you without much success."

"Oh, _those_ things. You did rather emphasize them over and over until I stopped listening to you."

"See what I had to put up with," Obi-Wan demanded of Bant, who merely patted him consolingly.

Their return was deliberately low key. They were met by a team from the Healers Ward and Mace Windu. He bent over the gravstretcher holding Obi-Wan as he was carried from the ship, and laid a hand on the injured Jedi's shoulder.

"Welcome back, Obi-Wan. Good to see you alive," Mace greeted him warmly, hiding his shock at how thin and ill Obi-Wan looked: his cheeks were hollow, and his skin almost translucent over limbs that seemed shrunken to little more than bones. If he looked like this now, Mace wondered just how bad he had looked previously. At least his eyes were bright and unclouded, and at least for the moment, free of pain.

"Master Windu," Obi-Wan inclined his head in greeting to the Council member, and his steady voice also reassured Mace that the injured man was recovering.

Mace nodded at Anakin in welcome as the team prepared to move the Jedi to the Healers Ward. His dark eyes gleamed as he noted, "Your attention to your master has been…notable, Anakin. I'm sure Obi-Wan has appreciated it, as has the Council. The Senate relayed word of the Skorean Council's satisfaction with the mission's success and Clone Commander Cody has also made his report. You may review the reports and amend them as you might find necessary. We had expected a full report from you before this; in future, you are to remember to keep the Council informed."

Mace then turned to Yoda. "Glad you're back, something's come up we need to talk about in Council." The two Jedi headed off.

Anakin held back a sigh of relief. He had expected a possible reprimand, especially if he reported abandoning his command to accompany Obi-Wan on the evac ship. If Cody hadn't mentioned it in his report, he saw no need to add the information at this date or defend his actions.

"Mace is right…I do appreciate everything you've done for me," Obi-Wan remarked. "I'll try to think of a suitable reward for you."

"Tell the Council to let me take the trials," Anakin said teasingly, but Obi-Wan only looked thoughtful.

"Perhaps. We'll see," he said vaguely, not wanting to get Anakin's hopes up.

The Council had been quite clear on their feelings when the subject had last come up, and Obi-Wan had agreed with enough of their reasoning to only put up token resistance. Whether Anakin's exploits and Obi-Wan's reports on them during the last few campaigns had changed any opinions, he wouldn't know until he had a chance to talk to them.

Anakin frowned, but knew this wasn't the time to talk about it. After all, Obi-Wan might be recovering, but he wasn't healthy yet. The Jedi had spent most of the trip in a healing trance, and he was still keeping his shields up – no doubt, to keep any vestige of pain from leaking through to his padawan.

One of the healers pulled Anakin aside and murmured something quietly to him as he was going to accompany Bant and Obi-Wan to the Healers Ward. Anakin grinned, and called to Obi-Wan that he would visit him later.

Vari V'keny was waiting for them when they entered the ward's reception area. She quickly came forward with a welcoming nod at Bant.

"My favorite patient returns," she greeted Obi-Wan with a squeeze of his hand, accompanying him as the healers took him into an examination room. "You gave us quite a scare, there, my dear boy."

"Not as bad a scare as I apparently gave my padawan," Obi-Wan admitted. "I hear Anakin was quite distraught, though I didn't hear that from him." He paused, puzzled at a stray thought. "Well, at least I don't think so. My memory is kind of confused, and I don't know what I really remember or what I dreamed."

"No surprise, that. Well, handsome, let's see what shape you arrived in," Master V'keny said cheerfully. "Have to check you over myself. At least you don't have to avert your eyes while I take a peek at what's going on with you." Obi-Wan had spent enough time in the Healers Ward over the years that they were old friends, and she felt no need to speak other than forthrightly with her patient.

He grumbled at her, knowing she would ignore him anyway. "See it or not, doesn't change the fact in the slightest that I know what you're doing."

"Crechling, boy and man, Obi-Wan, I've watched you grow up. There's not a freckle on you that I don't know about, but I hear you've got some new holes in that body of yours. If you behave yourself, I might even let you go to your quarters. There's a viral infection going around the Temple, and Force knows, if you stay here, you'll catch it sooner rather than later. You would make an even worse patient if you were both sick and injured."

"I hope you at least had the decency to warm your hands up," he muttered, talking to distract himself.

"Nope, put them in the freezer just for you," she teased as her fingers gently eased under his gown. "My goodness, are you under those bandages somewhere?" As she did, she sent gentle calming thoughts through the Force to relax him as he tensed.

She ran expert fingers over him, humming and whistling as she checked him over. "Seems good, so far. I'm going to reach in with the Force, so let your shields down, okay?" She patted him on the shoulder as if reassuring the small boy he had been when she'd first encountered him as a young Healer just out of training.

As she stepped back, Obi-Wan asked, "Can I, uh - ?"

She looked blank for a minute, and then agreed with a snort of laughter, "You can cover yourself, yes, if that's what you mean."

He tried to glare at her, but it was hard when his eyes saw nothing, so he missed seeing her eyes twitching with amusement as he fumbled to rearrange his gown. To hide his irritation – an emotion that often overcame him when in the Healers Ward – he asked with a snap, "Well?"

"You're sicker than a Bantha digesting in a Sarlacc, but I do believe you've gone from surviving to recovering. You haven't had any solid food in over a month, right, and were on rations before that?" At his nod, she snorted again.

"No wonder you've lost so much weight. You're nothing but skin and bones, why a strong wind would blow you away if you could get on your feet. Those broken bones have knitted quite well, though the limbs will be sore and stiff for some time. I don't want you to put any weight on your legs until the therapist says it's okay, so you're confined to bed until further notice."

"I won't even be permitted light duty?" he asked in dismay, thinking of how bored he would get, just lying in bed.

"Duty, my dear boy?" She shook her head in amazement. "No, sorry. Not yet. You'll just have to indulge in that meditation you so enjoy. Force, Obi-Wan, you've been broken apart and put back together, only surviving by sheer strength of will. You have no reserves, you're weaker than a crechling, and your eyesight hasn't come back. Not to mention that you are still are in pain and the pain medicine you're on is slowing losing its effectiveness. Bed rest for you, my old friend, and no solid foods for a while, yet."

"Blast!" he muttered under his breath. "So I'm stuck with these tubes yet."

"Yes. Sorry," she confirmed. "For several days, at least, though we'll try you on liquids soon. So, you want to sleep here or go to your quarters? We give you day and night care here, what do you say, handsome? Want to stay with me?"

His cheeks flamed and he felt like an embarrassed adolescent once again. Torn between laughter and tears, he settled for a grin and said firmly. "My own quarters."

"They're being readied for you now, Obi-Wan. I knew that would be your choice."

"Am I that predictable?" He was crestfallen. "An old stick-in-the mud according to my padawan."

"Only in some ways, dear boy. You do have a certain pattern to your choices, but then you throw a zinger into the mix to keep us off balance. Something you must have picked up from your dear master and reinforced by that unruly padawan of yours."

"I owe him my life," he said soberly.

"Be sure to tell him, then," the healer reminded him. "He hears every admonishment you give him – Force knows he deserves most of them – but he has a deaf ear to half your praise, even after all these years."

"I know," he said ruefully. "I do try to praise as well as scold; he is going to be such a powerful Jedi that I wanted him to work on his weaknesses to balance his strengths, but he resisted. So many times I was wondering if I was giving him the guidance he needed. Usually failing, as he was so quick to remind me." Obi-Wan shook his head in remembrance. "Thank the Force those days are mostly behind us."

"A master's lament. We all feel like that with our padawans," she agreed. "Okay, Obi-Wan, we're going to take that cast off your leg first, and then we'll get you moved into your own bed. All you have to do is to lie still; our capable hands will get you there as soon we're done. I, or more likely one of the other healers, will check on you shortly, but these big padawans I'm calling in will get you moved there and settled in."

"So I don't get a hug this time?" he asked casually as she turned to leave.

"I thought you didn't like them," she said, surprised and pleased, yet knowing he had always accepted hers.

He flushed a bit and said carelessly, "I endure them for your sake."

"Oh. Well, then," she said lightly and moved to his side, not at all fooled. There were few people Obi-Wan truly felt comfortable hugging, and ever since as a sick four year old he had sniffled in her arms, she had been one. She leaned over him and put her arms around him, and smiled as his arms came around her in a quick hug.

"I'm so glad you're still alive, my dear boy. Thanks. I needed that." She took one of his hands in hers and squeezed it lightly before laying it back down by his side.

They moved Obi-Wan into his quarters and settled him into his own room. Anakin leaned against the door and watched with a smile as Obi-Wan found just the spot to settle in with a sigh of weary relief. "Home!"

"Did she call you handsome this time?" he teased, and when Obi-Wan flushed, knew she had. "Even as sick as you are! Well, well. The woman has a crush on you."

"Oh, stop that," Obi-Wan said irritably. "She's above that. Only adolescent Jedi have crushes."

"And who was yours?" Anakin thought to tease his master, not realizing he was reopening a barely closed wound.

A pang, this born of sorrow, arrowed its way into Obi-Wan's heart. She had been more than a crush. He had loved her. She was dead, not all that long ago, and the pain was as fresh as if it had been just hours ago. His throat constricted and he looked away from Anakin. _Let it go, Obi-Wan_! he told himself. "_Let it go_." He took a deep breath to center himself, but still his voice trembled with his words.

"No one…I don't remember." The way his shields clanged shut warned Anakin not to pursue the matter. Stricken with his master's emotional shutdown, Anakin came forward and sat down by the Jedi's side, careful not to jostle him.

"I'm sorry, Master," he said quietly, reaching a hand out to touch the Jedi's brow in apology, but Obi-Wan turned his head away, his face tight and unreadable and his eyes moist. Anakin's mouth settled into a grim line.

Fine, if Obi-Wan didn't want to share something deeply personal with him, so be it. Maybe it was that there was nothing there to share, and the pain of his wounds just happened to flare up at that minute. Or maybe, just maybe, Obi-Wan didn't trust him enough to share that bit of his past with him.

He got up and paced back and forth, wondering if he should just let the moment go, or confront his master. Once decided, he stopped pacing and faced away from his master, away from the scowl he was sure was going to appear on that worn and loved face.

"I hate it when you shut down on me, Master," he said furiously, his voice hard and clipped, though he kept his voice low. "Talk to me, please, maybe if I understood you better, maybe I'd understand myself better."

There was no reply, not even a stirring in the Force. Anakin swung around, hands clenched at his side, and saw that the Jedi was fast asleep. He hadn't heard a word. The pained look he had worn for weeks had again smoothed out in sleep. He looked a decade younger.

In just that moment when he saw his master's face, peaceful in slumber, his anger left him and he reproached himself for his behavior. Had not Obi-Wan's mind assured him of his love and thanks back on Skore – had not the partial lowering of barriers proved to him the depth of their relationship? There was no deception within the Master/Padawan bond. Concealment, yes, with barriers raised, but deception, never.

He could hardly blame Obi-Wan for holding some things private; he did the same. Yet, why then did he feel cheated? He knew only he could answer that, if only if he chose to.

It had been years since he had kissed anyone other than his wife: only his mother as she lay dying in his arms on Tatooine. As a boy, he had kissed Obi-Wan on the cheek every once in a while, during the first year or so when he most missed his mother's kisses and hugs and was grateful for any sign of affection, even the distant gestures of affection Obi-Wan hesitantly extended.

He remembered Obi-Wan's initial surprise and tentative acceptance of them before he had learned to return the affectionate gesture. He had sensed Obi-Wan's disappointment when the young boy grew up and refused to bestow them anymore. How had he forgotten all that during all the chaos of the last few years?

Now, for the second time since their mission to Skore, he bent over his master and kissed his forehead, and let his hand brush his face.

"Sleep well, Master. I love you."

* * *

Obi-Wan was stirring restlessly as Anakin peeked in at him in the morning. Having been coached on what to do, he tiptoed in and exchanged the bags connected to the Jedi with their replacements. Bant had explained he was still being fed liquid nutrients and pain medicine through the drip in his arm, with the other bag catching waste byproducts.

Once, Anakin might have thought the duty unpleasant, but it was in care of his injured master. Since the alternative would have been no master, therefore no duty, he accepted the responsibility without complaint.

He fixed himself breakfast and busied himself with tidying up the quarters so long neglected, waiting for the healer to arrive as scheduled. It was Bant.

"He was still sleeping a while ago," Anakin offered as Bant walked quietly into Obi-Wan's room, but she had barely gotten a foot inside the door when the Jedi turned his head her way and smiled a bit uncertainly.

"I'm awake," he said helpfully. "Anakin, I fell asleep on you last night – I'm sorry, you were trying to tell me something?"

"No, Master," he replied gently. In the light of day, it seemed a trivial matter, best forgotten. Obi-Wan's sharp senses picked up something; he frowned and sent a question through the bond. Anakin easily dodged it, leaving Obi-Wan to back off, puzzled but unwilling to pursue it.

"Time to check your vital statistics, again," Bant said as she approached his bedside. "Nothing to embarrass you today, unless my checking your pulse does that." She winked at him, knowing that though he couldn't see it, he would sense it from her voice as she took his wrist in hers, checked his temperature and blood pressure.

"So I'm still alive?" Obi-Wan grinned as she replaced his arm by his side.

"That you are," Bant agreed happily. "You're really starting to get strong enough to turn the Force onto yourself, and then you'll be healing remarkably fast. Then Anakin can stop worrying so much. He looks like he's aged a few years lately."

"Me, worry? About Master Obi-Wan? Why should I? He's invincible," Anakin tried to joke, but the two Jedi heard the note of strain in his voice. It had been hard on the young man to do nothing but worry for all that time, and they both knew it.

"Padawan." Obi-Wan said sternly, a smile trying to escape his lips but firmly held back. "Padawan, I want you to go out and have some fun, find something to amuse you. It's been far too long since you've had such an opportunity."

"But, but, Master, you –." The young Jedi was surprised and somewhat displeased at this dismissal.

"I am perfectly capable of calling for help should I be overcome with boredom," Obi-Wan scolded. "I can be left alone for a while. You deserve a break. Take it."

"It's okay, Anakin," Bant nodded in agreement. "He doesn't need you to dance constant attendance on him. Besides, you've been beside him for so long now; he probably needs a break from you, too."

"Bant!" Obi-Wan protested. "You'll hurt Anakin's feelings. Padawan, please take some time for yourself. I appreciate everything you've done for me. Thank you. Again."

He paused, and a wicked gleam came into his eyes. "But, I'll need you well rested and ready to respond to my every request - when I think of a few. After all, you are so devoted to your old master, or so I heard."

With a stifled groan at this pronouncement, Anakin fled. Obi-Wan listened until he could no longer hear any footsteps and settled back with a small sigh. "You don't know how good it is to be home. It's been a long time."

Once, each homecoming was a chance to recover from the vagaries of whatever mission they had been on, a chance to catch up on training and with friends. A time to wonder where the next mission would send them, or when. Obi-Wan remembered when he had been a young padawan, anxious to be off again after a stretch of inactivity back at the Temple, time spent in mere studying or training.

Now a return to the Temple was as much feared as anticipated, for those lucky to return found news of missed friends, only to find many times that those friends had fallen in battle. Brief stays were cherished, but tinged with the sorrow of knowing that war beckoned, and soon they would be back in the midst of chaos, hoping yet again that this might be the last battle.

Hoping to give up the mantle of warrior and become, once again, the peacekeepers they were meant to be.

"When Anakin or someone else isn't around, Obi-Wan, you let the Healers Ward know, okay?" Bant asked. "Someone will check in with you periodically."

"I thought you said I was okay to be left alone," he protested, surprised and dismayed.

"Your health allows it, Obi-Wan," Bant laughed. "We don't trust you to stay quietly in bed as long as we think you should. We want to make sure you're not trying to move until we've given you the go ahead. If we catch you not following healer's orders, we will move you to the Healers Ward where we can keep watch on you."

"Spoil sports," he grumbled. "Master V'keny just wants to get her hands on me again."

"It's actually Master Yoda's idea," she grinned. "I have heard that you will have the full disapproval of the Council if you disobey orders. But I'm sure Master V'keny wouldn't be too disappointed. You're her favorite patient."


	17. Lovers Reunion

Anakin had already resigned himself to the fact that the healers were not keeping Obi-Wan upstairs in the healers ward and the Council was not granting him leaveHe wasn't as disappointed as he thought he would be, which truly surprised him, but then he realized he expected nothing else.

He also wasn't too disappointed for he realized he wouldn't have been able to enjoy himself – much – while Obi-Wan was still sick and just beginning to recover. He truly didn't want to leave his master's side yet.

That didn't mean he had to stay at the man's side for every minute of every day. For one thing, Obi-Wan would probably continue to spend most of the time sleeping and in a healing trance. Already Anakin could see that his master was looking better – speaking no longer took all his energy, the color was coming back into his skin, and Obi-Wan was finding the strength to release his pain into the Force.

Anakin was sure he had felt the Force swirling around them in the brief moment as they moved from Skore Med Center to the Jedi ship, there on the landing platform. From the slightly silly expression on Obi-Wan's face – almost like he was intoxicated – and the feeling of pure bliss and contentment he felt radiating from his master, and the healing trance he had spent most of the journey in, Obi-Wan was truly on the path to recovery.

However, his master had insisted he go have some fun, and for a bit of distraction and fun, Anakin could think of nothing better than a private reunion with his wife. In her arms, nothing was important but the two of them.

He had called her upon his return to the Temple the prior night. The look of delight on her face almost made up for their time apart. Almost. The joy of their reunion would. At the time he hadn't known if he could get away from the Temple, or should, so she had carried on with her schedule for the day, knowing he might call, knowing she might need to find an excuse to back out of any event.

But when he did call, she was almost teary.

"I can't get away," she said miserably. "Not for a few hours, anyway. Will you be able to get away in, say, four hours?"

"If not, I'll find a way," he growled. Padme felt sorry for anyone that might be in the way at the appointed time. It was a growl that gave no ground; had even been known to make a Jedi back off.

Because she loved him, and he her, it didn't scare her, only filled her with a sense of satisfaction. Her husband, full of passion and fire, was back, and he would be hers and she his. Later, if only they could wait that long.

When she was finally able to get away she hurried home, only minutes later than she hoped, anxious beyond hope and already breathing fast in anticipation of their passionate reunion. He was waiting for her, tucked in the shadows of the veranda.

He rose with a disbelieving smile of joy and satisfaction as she launched herself into his arms. He swung her around and around as her hands caressed his head, their lips meeting in a kiss that seemed to last an eternity, but only until they both gasped for breath. She half expected him to sink to the floor with her there, wasting no time.

Forgotten in the joy of their reunion was the reason for it: Obi-Wan's injuries. Nothing existed but them. Anakin swept her into his arms and strode purposefully down the hall.

"I'm surprised you can wait until we get there," she breathed in his ear. He turned his head to look at her with a big grin. "I didn't think it – prudent – to engage in our reunion during full daylight on your veranda."

"No, I suppose not," she said in disappointment. "We could close the curtains."

"And start a scandal? Besides, the bedroom is much closer now," he whispered and broke into a run for that room. She landed on the bed and Anakin landed beside her within a heartbeat.

"Oh, Ani," she whispered, running her hands over his face and pulling him down beside her.

"Force help me!" he burst out as he fumbled with the catches of her formal wear.

"No, Ani, slow down," she was torn between laughter and dismay. "I want to see your face, feel your kisses. Here, here, here," she guided his fingers as he swore, but with each tug and swear word, he was getting more and more aroused, until finally she could slip free of the clothing and reach her hands to help him from his.

Then for the two long-separated lovers, time stopped and husband and wife became one.

When time released its breath, Padme realized Anakin was on one elbow above her just looking at her with such a look of love and longing that she almost shuddered. He traced the line of her jaw, her shoulder and ran his fingers down her arms to her fingers.

"My love," she said softly, her eyes tracing the planes of his face. "This year has been hard on you. I can see it on your face and in your eyes. You look as if something precious has been burned out of you – kind of a lost innocence."

"I was never innocent," he answered lightly. "It's a luxury a slave can't afford, and after I met you, you were all I desired, even if I was still a boy and didn't understand what I felt. I had to have you, and I went after you with everything I had from the moment we met here again."

Yes, before the war, before Geonosis, before so much death and destruction. When the Jedi Council had sent Obi-Wan Kenobi and his padawan to guard her against assassins – Obi-Wan! She had not even thought to ask how he was.

As Anakin reached for her, she sat up on her elbows shaking her head.

"Ani, I forgot all about poor Obi-Wan. How is he? Can I go see him?"

His voice hardened. "Why are you asking about him – now?" He didn't wait for her answer, just rolled away from her and lay with his back to her, tense and unhappy.

"Ani!" she exclaimed. "He's the reason you're here with me now. If he hadn't almost been… been killed," her voice faltered at the memory, the anxious hours she had spent waiting for Anakin's updates. She counted the Jedi as a dear friend. "The Council would never have brought you back here. Ani!" She shook his shoulder, softening her voice in an attempt to reach him.

"I don't want to talk about Obi-Wan," he burst out. "Not here, not in our bed."

To his total surprise, Padme giggled. "You're somehow jealous of him."

"Am not," he muttered.

"Anakin, love, I married you, I share what little married life I have with you." She reached a hand out and ran it down his spine. "I care for Obi-Wan very much, as do you. Whether or not you'll ever be the Jedi he is, he'll never be the man you are – he'll never be the man I married and welcome to my bed."

She saw him relax under her hand. "Oh, Padme," he said tenderly, and rolled over and kissed her. "I'm sorry. It's just that we have so little time together; I have to be with him so much it's like he's the unseen third figure in our marriage. I resent that every time he keeps me from you."

"But, Anakin," she said lightly, "He doesn't know about us. He doesn't knowingly keep us apart, and you can't blame him for your missions. The Council decides that."

He nodded in silent agreement. "I know…though I think he has some strong suspicions about us with the looks he gives me when he thinks I'm not looking, whenever your name or my missing Coruscant comes up."

"He hasn't said anything to you, has he?" She didn't know whether or not to be alarmed.

"No, and I don't think he ever will," Anakin agreed.

"As long as he merely _thinks _something is going on, he doesn't have to address it, and if he says anything and I deny it, either I have had to lie to him, or he has to himself, because he would know. If I did admit it, he would have to lie to the Council or see me dismissed from the Order. It's easier if he doesn't ask and I don't tell. One thing I know, he will never know for sure, even if he wonders if there is something between us. Certainly, he wouldn't suspect marriage. But I think he trusts you to keep me at arm's length."

"But I thought Jedi were allowed to, well, have relationships?" Padme smiled as she ran a finger over her husband's lips. "There's no celibacy requirement, is there?"

He sighed. "It's complicated. Relationships are allowed, if an attachment is not allowed to develop. This tends to lead to casual relationships, which most Jedi frown on, so in essence, relationships end up being disapproved of."

"So, Obi-Wan never, ah…?" she asked curiously, though it was touched with a hint of sadness at the thought. Had the Jedi never known what it was like to be held within loving arms? To have a woman willingly give herself to his loving, desire his touch? Had he never known love?

"I doubt it," he grinned. "He wouldn't settle for any kind of a one time only encounter, probably find it cheap and distasteful, and the only relationship he might allow himself is forbidden. Maybe when he was young, I don't know. He doesn't talk much about those days, certainly nothing like that. I'm pretty sure his master had no lack of luck with the ladies."

"Really? Qui-Gon?" she smiled, taking delight in the thought.

"Well, I don't really know for sure, but it wouldn't surprise me one bit. Someday, I'll have to ask Obi-Wan what talk Qui-Gon gave him at that age." His smile was suddenly mischievous. "Someday, I'll tell you what talk he gave me. When we're not engaged in some exercise or other."

* * *

Anakin knocked on Obi-Wan's door and at his invitation, entered. Obi-Wan looked over at him and smiled. He hadn't sensed so much joy and satisfaction in his padawan since – he couldn't really remember when.

"Had some fun, did you?"

"Oh, this and that," Anakin said, helping Obi-Wan sit up against the pillows. He studied his master's face with an intent look. "You know, you're looking much better already. Bant said you'd be recovering fast, once you started. Force, if you could have only seen yourself at first – you'd have died from the shock."

"You survived," Obi-Wan reminded him with a chuckle.

"It wasn't funny, Master. Your leg was inhumanly twisted and you were just covered in blood. For the longest time, that was all I could see in my sleep, blood – on the ground, on you, on me…."

"Focus, padawan," Obi-Wan commanded gently. "Weren't you the one to remind me to focus on the here and now? I'm going to be okay, so try to forget all that. You've been a great comfort to me, and I appreciate it. But I am recovering, and exceedingly grateful for everything you've done for me, so I want you to continue to have some fun for as long as you can. It's been far too long…far too long."

"I thought you said a Jedi's life was full of work and sacrifices, not fun," Anakin teased.

"It is," Obi-Wan agreed. "That's why I want you to take this opportunity to enjoy yourself. I know this constant war has got to you – and then you had to worry about me – I saw how you were changing, losing your sense of fun. I couldn't help you, not then, but now I can command you to find that same enjoyment of life you used to show. Just don't revert back to that bratty teenager that just about drove me crazy."

Anakin grinned. "I wasn't bratty, master. It was just how I reacted to all your scoldings."

"You were a brat," Obi-Wan contradicted him, a reminiscent smile curving his lips. "And…I may have been a little harsh with you, too. But we both came out of that period intact, so we'll forget it ever happened."

"Live for the moment?"

"Live for the moment." Obi-Wan agreed.

Bant had brought Obi-Wan some light weights and squeeze balls to build up his arm muscles as he lay in bed under strict orders not to leave it. He had been surprised when he had first run his hands over his legs and arms, finding no muscles there to speak of.

A therapist came to his quarters twice daily and worked on his limbs, flexing and stretching them to get the limbs used to motion again before they worked on rebuilding the lost muscle.

Vari V'keny herself came one day with Bant, a day they decided he might be ready to try some bland broth and see how his system handled it. They helped Obi-Wan sit up in bed, propping pillows behind him before Bant handed him a mug and helped him hold it.

Bant had tried to hold the mug to Obi-Wan's mouth, but the Jedi flatly refused to be fed in such a manner. They had compromised on the double grip on the mug, as Bant didn't want to risk Obi-Wan's weak grip to slip, causing hot liquid to spill onto him.

"You might not be able to keep this down," Vari warned, tucking an absorbent cloth in his lap and keeping one handy. "Your stomach has been empty for a long time. If you can't, we're ready. Try to fight it if you feel queasy."

The first few sips slid across his tongue and down his throat, warm liquid that felt as well as tasted good. Obi-Wan took a few more and suddenly pushed the mug back into Bant's hand to free his hands to press them to his stomach. He shook his head weakly and pressed his lips together.

"Fight it, Obi-Wan, it's good nourishment….think of it as something good," Vari soothed him, and when that didn't work, pressing a cloth against his lips as his stomach finally rebelled. "That's okay, you're having a perfectly normal reaction."

The nausea passed fairly quickly, for the Jedi had only swallowed a few mouthfuls of liquid. They waited a while for his stomach to settle down, before they tried again. This time Obi-Wan was able to keep it down, though with a bit of a struggle.

Another step on the path of recovery had been taken.

* * *

Begging off her schedule with an explanation she was ill, Padme and Anakin were able to meet every day for nearly a week, though she feared her excuse was running thin. Anakin always returned to the Temple, never spending the night, wanting and needing to be with his master as long as his health remained fragile.

Padme understood that. She would have preferred her husband beside her, to have him leave early in the morning to return to his quarters before any Jedi were stirring, but neither of them would ever forgive themselves if Obi-Wan should need Anakin and he wasn't there.

Each time they would find time to meet, Padme asked about Obi-Wan, not just how he was doing, but just what had happened to him. Anakin would give her a quick answer, but finally he saw that she was getting exasperated with him.

"You haven't said anything except 'he's getting better' since you got back," she finally scolded him gently. "You said he was all but killed when a blast sent him flying, but there's got to be more you haven't told me. I want to hear more since I'm not allowed to see him."

It wasn't that Anakin didn't want to tell her, but that telling her would be like reliving it all over again. The first time was bad enough; he wanted to lock the memory away and forget the anguish of those days at Obi-Wan's side, waiting to find out if the Jedi would be able to survive that which he feared he could not do.

So he recounted the horror of seeing Obi-Wan lying broken on the ground and feeling like the sun had been kicked out of the sky, of performing CPR and mouth to mouth on his mentor…

"Padme, I was so afraid to touch him, to find out how that he was dead – I knew he had to be dead but I didn't want to _know_ – and then I thought of him, dying alone with me just sitting there watching and doing nothing….

…I was so afraid to touch him," _afraid I would find only cold flesh, no breath, and no heartbeat – not my master, but only a dead body that had once housed his spirit..._

"feeling the pain explode within him, and then the silence, such absolute silence – no awareness through the bond, no heartbeat, no breath, and knowing I couldn't let Obi-Wan just die without trying to bring him back…," and Anakin shuddered with his memories.

… _the long painful hours at the side of an unconscious man and the sheer pain he'd felt through the bond, his joy when Obi-Wan had pulled him into a weak hug and his tears, the realization, finally, that Obi-Wan would live, had awoken to tease and be teased in turn…_

He didn't even know he was crying, until Padme wiped a tear from his cheek, then one from her own face.

"Oh, Anakin," she exhaled, and buried her head against his shoulder as he bowed his head over her, and they cried together for a friend they had come so close to losing.

"So when can I see him?" she finally demanded, leaning back and searching his eyes. He wiped them clear and shrugged.

"The Healers haven't allowed him many visitors until he regains his strength. They were afraid he might catch this viral infection that's going around, and they didn't think he was strong enough to fight it off if he caught it. Before I touch him, I have to wash up and I have to be especially vigilant about anything that comes near him."


	18. Affection Revealed

Anakin did not expect the surprise waiting for him when he opened the door to their shared quarters several days later. He stared in astonishment and slowly dawning delight. Obi-Wan was sitting in a chair in the common room, dressed in regular sleeping clothes and a robe and nothing visibly tethered to him.

As the door slid open, Obi-Wan's head swiveled to face the door and the Jedi grinned.

"Hi, Padawan," he said easily, and slowly pushed himself to his feet where he stood, unsteadily but on his feet, hands resting lightly on the arms of his chair. "You're back."

"Obi-Wan!" Anakin exclaimed. "You're out of bed! On your feet!"

"You are quite observant today," Obi-Wan laughed, eyes dancing in the no-longer shadowed planes of his face. He no longer looked as much like a wraith of a man as before, only one injured and now recovering.

Anakin crossed the room with long strides and enveloped Obi-Wan in a hug. The startled Jedi stumbled a bit, before awkwardly patting his Padawan's shoulder.

"Don't attack me, Anakin, I'm not that steady on my feet," Obi-Wan warned gently, well aware that his stumble was more from surprise than unsteadiness, though he kept his tone light to take any sting out of the words.

"Sorry, Master," Anakin mumbled, not at all sorry, as he stepped back. "I'm just so relieved to see you on your feet at last…oops," he interrupted himself as Obi-Wan swayed again, only to be caught in a strong grip. Anakin helped the Jedi sit back into his seat.

"No stamina, sorry," Obi-Wan murmured, a bit embarrassed at his weakness. Anakin snorted.

"Force, Master, don't be so hard on yourself. I didn't think you'd be on your feet for another month. Before you know it, you'll be out on missions again." He didn't see the small shadow that crossed Obi-Wan's eyes at these words.

What lay ahead was too difficult to predict. "Always in motion, the future." Yoda's words haunted Obi-Wan. He had had flashes of himself, some recovered and with full vision, some of him recovered but without the return of his sight, and a few, just a few, of complications that impeded his recovery.

Anakin's pleasure quickly turned to worry, once the initial surprise wore off. "Should you be up at all? The healers…if they catch you –you're so in trouble if Bant finds out."

"We're allowing it," Bant said from across the room, where she had been out of sight. "We've been working on strengthening his muscles. He can barely stand on his own and only for a very short time, and he's only allowed to walk to this chair and back to bed with support or with you or someone here to help him; he's not quite ready to move about on his own, yet." She ignored the irritated look that Obi-Wan shot at her, though he didn't disagree.

"I took the liberty of raiding your pantry and fixing some tea and a light snack," Bant told Anakin. "We'll let him try some solid food and see how that goes down. He's been able to keep broth and even some thick soup down, so we'll try something slightly more solid."

"Food? Real food?" Obi-Wan was delighted, though he didn't have much of an appetite.

"Not too much to start with, and only if you can keep it down." Bant warned as she brought a tray with a bowl of fruit and some rolls, and some tea. "Here, I'll sit this down in front of you where you don't have to reach far, and your tea is at your side." Though normally sure handed, she put the tray down with a bit of a thump.

A small smile curved Obi-Wan's lips; he understood and appreciated her little gesture, keeping his secret. Bant smiled back at him, though she knew he couldn't see, and gently touched his cheek before moving to another seat.

The three ate and drank, together enjoying one of their first worry-free moments in quite some time.

Obi-Wan's hand trembled as he lifted a spoonful of fruit to his mouth. Anakin started to his feet to help, but sat back down at Bant's head shake.

That tastes good," the Jedi stated, a smile of satisfaction on his face. He managed to get several slices of fruit down before he sighed and leaned back in his seat.

"You did really well, Obi," Bant complimented him, taking his plate and carrying it to the small kitchen. "Not bad for your first real food in some time. More tea?"

"Please," he answered; waited for her soft "okay," to lift the cup and take a sip, then another. He sighed and the cup clattered as he unsteadily set it down, to let his hand rest limply on his leg. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

Seeing that Obi-Wan had tired, Bant got up to go. "Let Anakin take you back to bed, Obi. You're exhausted. It's been a big day for you, right? Tomorrow your physical therapy really gets underway, I hear – don't be too hard on the therapist." She stood up and took one of his hands in her own, patting it with the other. He opened his eyes and smiled weakly back.

"I don't have the strength – yet – to be hard on anyone," Obi-Wan said, only to sit up straight as Anakin snorted.

"Your tongue wasn't wounded, Master," Anakin said innocently and waited for Obi-Wan's glare of disapproval. It didn't come; the Jedi only sighed, though the corners of his mouth twitched a bit as if he was hiding a tired grin.

Bant turned to look at Anakin, still holding Obi-Wan's hand in hers and squeezing it to show Obi-Wan she was serious about her words to his padawan.

"Anakin, he starts therapy tomorrow and we both know he's going to overdo it. When they bring him back here, he's to rest, understand? Put a sleep compulsion on him if you need to."

"Bant!" Obi-Wan protested. "I don't need Anakin bossing me around, too. He's still my padawan, you know; I can't have him getting delusions of power."

"Delusions?" Anakin asked. "Hah! I'll obey Bant's orders over yours any day – your health is too darn important to me to listen to you fuss and fume."

"And you want to become a knight sometime in your lifetime?" Obi-Wan asked pointedly, and smiled smugly at Anakin's silence. "Fine, I promise not to kill myself and you – both of you – promise to stop worrying so much."

Anakin and Bant glanced at each other and nodded.

"We've got your promise, Obi-Wan," Bant warned him, leaning over and dropping a light kiss on his forehead. "You know it's because we care. Now go back to bed and rest."

Obi-Wan flushed, and it was his turn to be silent.

After she left, Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin, then at the floor. His cheeks flushed as he asked diffidently, "Anakin, I need…would you help me to the refresher first? I don't think I can make it there on my own."

"Sure, Master," Anakin said, jumping to his feet and pretending not to see the blush of shame on Obi-Wan's face. He was delighted; though he hadn't mentioned it, he had seen that the Healers were gradually weaning him off the various tubes used to keep his body functioning and machines overseeing his functions. Another sign that his master was recovering.

His quick eyes had already noted the walking sticks lying on the floor, and he quickly surmised that Obi-Wan was supposed to only walk with his weight supported on them. He handed one to Obi-Wan and tucked the other one under an arm as he helped Obi-Wan to stand.

"Here, put your other arm over my shoulder. Lean on me, okay, I've got you." He winked, but Obi-Wan wasn't looking at him. He helped the Jedi down the short hallway and opened the door to lead Obi-Wan inside. He reached to assist him, but the Jedi pulled away and said quietly, "I can do this alone, if you'll wait outside and help me back to bed."

Anakin waited, shoulders against the wall, whistling lightly through his teeth, thinking idly that even near-death hadn't changed the Jedi's modesty. He waited for quite a while, almost ready to barge in and see if Obi-Wan had collapsed inside. Finally, the door opened and Obi-Wan steadied himself against the door jamb.

"You washed up," Anakin accused, his relief that Obi-Wan hadn't fallen and hurt himself turned to irritation. Obi-Wan looked pale and worn as if he had overexerted himself. He probably had; he was slightly damp as if he had carefully washed up with a cloth. Why was he so darn stubborn and determined to be self-sufficient when Anakin was right there to lend a helping hand? "What if you'd fallen?"

"I would have called for you," Obi-Wan responded, surprised at his padawan's fretful tone of voice. "No doubt, though, you would have heard the noise if I'd fallen and been inside before I could even call you."

"True," Anakin allowed, unappeased. "I'm keeping a close eye on you until the Healers say I don't need to."

"Thanks, Anakin," Obi-Wan said softly, reaching out to pat his cheek but Anakin had already turned and his fingers patted only air. He shot a guilty glance towards his padawan, but there was no indication through the Force that he had seen the missed gesture. "Bant was right. I am quite tired; help me back to bed, will you?"

* * *

"Mornin', Master, want to get out of bed and have some breakfast?" Anakin asked cheerily the next morning, poking his head in Obi-Wan's room after first opening the door quietly to see if he was asleep or awake.

Obi-Wan was awake, for he turned his head towards Anakin and slowly sat up, nodding. He swung his feet to the floor and carefully stood, wavering a bit, taking a moment to get his balance and grimacing at the need. He hated to be dependent on anyone else for assistance, and his mouth quirked up as he remembered his old master's admonishments: A Jedi must learn not just to offer help, but to accept help when needed.

Anakin came forward and touched his arm to steady him. The Jedi lightly, though reluctantly, placed his hand on the young man's arm for assistance, and slowly limped into the common room.

"There you are, Master," Anakin said, helping Obi-Wan to his favorite seat.

"You don't need to fuss over me, Anakin," Obi-Wan observed quietly, nonetheless squeezing his hand in thanks as he slowly sat down.

"Yes, I do," Anakin returned airily. He sat abruptly down and leaned forward, careful to enunciate each word to punctuate his meaning. He cleared his throat.

"You…well, Master, you mean more to me than you possibly know. I know we've had some differences of opinion on things, but, well – Force, Master, I had no idea how much you meant to me until I almost lost you! I need to fuss over you, okay?"

Obi-Wan's face showed surprise and affection at this outburst. "Okay, Anakin," he said softly. He was surprised to find how touched he was by these words and for a minute he was overcome with pleasure, and he had to swallow hard to clear the lump in his throat. "I'll try not to protest too much."

Anakin smiled back at his master, pleased at the pink flush that had suffused his mentor's face and the pleasure radiating through the bond. For too long now the bond had been too quiet, for Obi-Wan still thought to protect his apprentice by hiding his aches and pain within a tightly shielded mind. Even when he had been struggling just to survive, he had tried to keep Anakin away. Even now, those shields were lightly in place, but Anakin's words had opened a crack in them.

"Try? There is no try, there is do, or do not, according to Master Yoda."

"Since when you have absorbed any of Master Yoda's wisdom?" Obi-Wan demanded, astonished.

"Since he actually said something that made sense to me," Anakin said smugly. "Okay, Master, I'll try to fuss less and you to protest less," he agreed and got to his feet to bring a tray of food over. "It's just hot grain cereal," he half-apologized.

"That's fine," Obi-Wan assured him. "Not much different than my usual, anyway." He grinned and Anakin grinned back.

Neither one of them were big breakfast eaters, or went in for anything fancy under normal circumstances, though Anakin had a sneaking suspicion that Obi-Wan's first taste of breakfast after his near death ought to be something more – celebratory - than mere grain cereal.

"Good thing it wasn't your right arm that got broken," Anakin remarked, seeing how even using his predominant arm, Obi-Wan was slow in maneuvering his spoon. His hand shook as he raised the spoon to his lips. His muscles were still weak and slow to respond.

Anakin watched, wondering if he should offer to assist, or allow Obi-Wan to continue the slow process.

As if sensing Anakin's troubled expression, Obi-Wan looked over at him. "I am perfectly capable of feeding myself," he started to scold gently, and then he suddenly relented with a soft sigh.

"Still, I suppose, if I want more than one or two bites before it turns cold and congealed, I should accept your help, should you still wish to fuss over a broken down Jedi Master."

"Not broken down, just injured," Anakin said gently, jumping to his feet and taking the spoon from Obi-Wan's grasp and maneuvering it quite expertly to his master's mouth. As Obi-Wan obediently swallowed the bite and then a second, he added teasingly, "Good practice for when you actually get old and decrepit – I suppose I will have to feed you then, too."

"By the Force, I hope not," Obi-Wan chuckled, before suddenly breaking into such deep laughter that he had to clutch his chest as it bitterly complained against the exertion. It so surprised Anakin that he stared at the Jedi in amazement for his master rarely broke into such deep laughter, especially to the point that he could barely choke out his next words.

"The Chosen One reduced to feeding his former master. Quite a come down for you, Anakin."

It hurt the muscles of his chest, but Obi-Wan didn't care; it felt remarkably good to laugh. He couldn't remember the last time he had given himself over to such abandonment of serenity.

His laughter was contagious, and for a few moments both Jedi laughed together, finding welcome relief from stress – Anakin from long weeks of worry and fear and Obi-Wan from pain and cloudy memories.

"Oh, ah, that felt good," Obi-Wan gasped for breath, brushing tears away from his eyes and Anakin hiccupped in agreement, before looking at the bowl in sudden dismay.

"Oh, this doesn't look too good, let me make you another bowl," he offered.

"No, no, Anakin, I've had enough for now," Obi-Wan said, waving away his offer. "Lying in bed doesn't give one much of an appetite. Why don't you find someone to spar with for a while, and then maybe find something relaxing to do? You'd better take advantage of what free time you can grab; we don't know how long it'll be before you don't have any."

Anakin started to protest, again. Again, Obi-Wan forestalled him with a gentle reminder that the healers had certified him alive and recovering. Grumbling softly under his breath, Anakin agreed, though secretly pleased to again have the chance to try to grab some time with his wife.

Just before he left, he smacked himself in the forehead at his forgetfulness.

"By the way, Master, I have a message for you from Cody: Tell the boss I knew he was too tough not to make it, his troops send their regards - and take your time coming back."

A pleased grin spread over Obi-Wan's face at the message, and for once, the Jedi had no words in him.

* * *

Anakin waited until the healers came to take Obi-Wan to his first physical therapy session in a little used exercise hall, the first of two daily sessions, before doing some cleaning up before figuring out what to do with the rest of his free time. Now that Obi-Wan would be spending so much time in therapy, he had all but ordered Anakin to enjoy himself and Anakin wasn't about to disobey that order.

It was perhaps the first order he actually eagerly accepted, he mused to himself. While his master was by no means recovered, and not capable of much movement on his own yet, Anakin felt it was only a matter of weeks until Kenobi-Skywalker was back on the active roster.

Whether or not he was right, there was no certainty that he would be allowed so much free time for more than another day or another week. Once his master was capable of recuperating on his own, the Council might very well want to direct his activities – especially if they got wind of the free time he already had.

No doubt they thought, as he had expected himself, that he would be spending most of his time tending to his master, but Obi-Wan had been quite clear in his firm directive to take advantage of what time he could to enjoy himself since he was either in therapy or resting.

His master's gentle tones had held a rare hesitant quality, as if even he was a bit surprised at his words that morning.

A silent scream tearing from his throat had abruptly awoken Anakin: he had jerked awake, trembling with a flash back of the sight of Obi-Wan's crumpled body as he had first seen it from a distance. He had calmed his wildly beating heart and turned on the light to reassure himself he was in his own room, which meant that his master was asleep across the hall. Alive, and asleep, - but knowing this was different from seeing it. He had to wipe the terrible memory from his mind by quietly slipping into his master's room despite the early morning hour.

He had leaned against the door jamb, before settling down on the floor by Obi-Wan's bedside, just looking at him and marveling that the mentor he had been so afraid of losing lay so peacefully asleep in front of him. Muted light hinting of morning's arrival washed from the window across the room, a soft caress of light touching the sleeping figure sprawled on its stomach, cheek sideways on the pillow, limning the Jedi in a soft nimbus of light.

A thin spill of light from across the hall allowed Anakin to see that the hollows in his master's face were slowly filling out and his skin had regained its normal color, no longer showing the pallor of sickness and bruising of his injuries.

He was glad that his presence had not woken the Jedi, though he found it surprising. He had never been able to sneak up upon his master, despite his many tries when young.

Even more surprising was that Obi-Wan hadn't been at his side before he had even awoken, to lay a cool hand against his face and calmly wake his padawan from another nightmare. How many times he had awoken to that gentle touch and immediately felt relief from the fears that had plagued his sleep.

Now he was the one keeping silent watch over the other, in the dark hours of the night, and he began to realize the peace such a vigil engendered in the watcher.

Obi-Wan had stirred and shifted position to lie on his back as he slowly woke, seemingly a bit disoriented, stiffening as if taking his bearings. Anakin had laid a hand on his master's shoulder and wished him a good morning. The Jedi had relaxed and his hand had come up and gently patted Anakin's.

"I really appreciate everything you've done for me, padawan," he had said, and hesitated, not even questioning why Anakin was sitting beside him. "It's been a long and hard year for you and I know the stress you've been under. You've – changed. I've been concerned about you, but haven't known how to help, but now I do. I want you to take some time to enjoy yourself, to just be Anakin."

He had started to protest, but Obi-Wan's hand had curled around his, warm and strong, cutting off his protests before they could even be voiced. _I'll feel better if I know you are finally relaxing_, Obi-Wan was telling him, and he could feel the sincerity in the touch, both physical and against his mind, even as the soft voice was telling him that he would be okay.

"But you need me, Master," he had tried to protest, but Obi-Wan had stopped him with a gentle finger on his lips.

"Not all the time, my padawan, and there is nothing you can do for me when I'm in therapy or just resting. What I need is to know that you have a respite from the war. I need you to be the old Anakin, the one you were so many years ago. I will feel better when I know you are feeling better."

How could he refuse, when he knew Obi-Wan was right, for his master was nearly always right.

* * *

Obi-Wan wasn't enjoying therapy, but he threw himself into it with determination and all the stubbornness he could muster. What was left of his muscles screamed in protest after the first day, and he didn't resist when the therapist ordered him to lie down so he could massage the limbs. The Jedi found the firm yet gentle kneading of his muscles to be incredibly relaxing and he let himself sink into a state of blissful relaxation as satisfying as meditation.

The therapist encouraged him to swim, as the buoyancy of the water helped support his muscles, though after just half a lap his shoulder and leg muscles began to burn. Obi-Wan just gritted his teeth and swam on; pushing himself until the therapist almost literally had to haul him out of the water and scold him.

Obi-Wan took comfort in the fact that as he swam, he could sense where he was in the pool. Now that pain was not blotting out his connection to the Force, he felt the pool boundaries. He was reminded of Temple exercises, sparring blindfolded and relying on a sense other than eyesight to keep him placed in space and attuned to his surroundings.

As he became aware of what he could still _do_, as opposed to what he couldn't _see_, he began to find acceptance in the possibility of permanent blindness. Once he accepted it, he could help Anakin accept it. Soon, he would have to tell Anakin soon.

After another evaluation of his leg, they allowed him to begin exercising his legs with light weights under careful supervision. His legs were not yet capable of supporting even his diminished weight on their own for other than brief periods of standing, so he was still only allowed to walk with either physical support or someone at his side holding his elbow in case he stumbled. They worried about him falling and hurting himself.

Grimly, Obi-Wan poured himself into exercising, pushing his body further than was wise, and paying for it in muscles that ached and threatened to keep him awake all night long. He just wrapped warm pads around his limbs before sleeping, letting the warmth relax the taut muscles, and all the while carefully shielding the pain from his padawan. He didn't want Anakin to report back to the healers or to get upset, or even, yet, know how well he was doing.

He had promised not to overdo the exercise, but as long as his muscles merely cramped and ached in protest without actual harm, Obi-Wan figured he was keeping the spirit of the agreement. He had, after all, promised not to kill himself, not to push himself.

And he was getting stronger. He could feel it; even if he felt like groaning every time he moved.


	19. Introduction of Doubt

Bored. Anakin had never known the meaning of the word. Until now.

Life had conspired to teach him patience. His master was recuperating, his friends were away at war, and his wife was back at work.

Anakin had time on his hands, and for the first time he could remember, he was bored. Obi-Wan was away in therapy, the quarters had been cleaned, and he had nothing to do. He couldn't remember what it was like to have nothing to do. Always before when he had free time, he had droids to build or pranks to plan. His few close friends in the Order were fighting on far away planets. He had free time, but he didn't know for how long.

Obi-Wan had told him to relax and have fun, but being bored was most certainly not relaxing or fun. His master was either working himself to exhaustion in his quest to regain his health, or resting from his exertions, worn out. He didn't seem inclined to speak of his frustrations at being so inactive, though the padawan caught glimpses of an occasional scowl or sigh when Obi-Wan didn't seem to remember that Anakin was nearby to see.

His master never failed to ask about his time away, but Anakin had a sense that Obi-Wan was trying to show genuine interest while avoiding detail. The young Jedi wondered, uneasily, if his master suspected and didn't wish to confirm his padawan's whereabouts. Certainly, Obi-Wan smiled and seemed to relax when Anakin reassured him that he was taking advantage of the first free time he could remember in years.

Anakin knew his master had been long concerned for him – he had not failed to notice Obi-Wan's frowning looks and gentle probes as he had tried to help the young Jedi to an inner serenity that the master had long ago achieved, but which eluded the padawan.

His injuries had for a time overwhelmed that concern, but Obi-Wan was again trying to help him, encouraging him to take a break from duty. He appreciated his master's concern, but he was _bored_. He missed sparring with his master, and he missed their pre-war missions. He missed action with this inactivity, and wondered if his master was just as disgruntled during his recuperation. He saw too little of Obi-Wan to know.

Padme's excuse that she was sick had worn itself out, and Padme was back at the Senate, tied up in meetings all day. Grumbling to himself, Anakin headed down to the practice salles to see if he could find someone to spar with. Anyone, even an inexperienced initiate. Finding no one, Anakin programmed some remotes and amused himself with quickly destroying them, imagining them as Separatist leaders to remove from the field of battle.

They didn't give him much of a workout, and certainly no satisfaction, for destroying remotes did nothing to hurry the end of the war. The damn war – keeping him from his wife, watching innocents die, seeing how many beings he could not save. If he was just let free to pursue Dooku and Grievous on his own - he could end the war single handedly if "the powers that be" would just let him loose. How he would love to bring their heads to the Chancellor and announce that the Republic was saved.

The Chosen One would have fulfilled his destiny, and perhaps destiny would leave him alone after that. With the galaxy at peace, he could even contemplate leaving the Jedi Order and retiring in marital bliss with his wife, should he not be able to force the Order to accept his marriage.

The Jedi, the Chancellor, all would hail him as the savior of democracy. Perhaps finally he would get the recognition and approval he deserved. Perhaps Mace Windu would even smile and congratulate him, if the attempt to smile didn't crack the mask known as his always grim face.

Maybe, even, Obi-Wan would finally acknowledge that the pupil had surpassed the master. It would be a triumphant, if bitter-sweet, moment, to see his master finally acknowledge the truth; to see the pride and sorrow finally shine in his eyes as he bowed to the greatest Jedi of them all.

He would have to be granted a seat on the Jedi Council, perhaps even take charge. The Jedi masters who refused him their full trust and approval would have to swallow their objections.

And Padme: she would be so proud. Proud that it was her husband who had saved the Republic she served, her husband who had saved countless lives, and her husband who stood as the most powerful Jedi of all.

Flush with imagined triumph, he decided on an impulse to contact the Chancellor's office to see if Palpatine had any free time during the upcoming days. He would be happy to get five minutes to visit with the man who had befriended him so many years ago. Like Padme, unlike the Jedi, Palpatine saw and understood his struggle to reconcile his human nature with the behavior expected of him as a Jedi.

The Jedi path often seemed too narrow, too rigid for one inherently so instinctual. The Jedi emphasized self control and calm serenity; his being demanded he act on instincts guided less by calm judgment and more by passion and conviction as guided by the Force. Anakin had not yet found a way to reconcile the two harmoniously. He saw and recognized the merits in each approach, but struggled to find balance.

Obi-Wan, none of the Jedi, understood. He knew they thought he lacked self-control, when what he lacked was their innate caution and rational approach. What was the good of patience, of a measured approach to a situation, when a situation simply demanded immediate action?

Palpatine understood both the need for caution and for hasty action, and condemned him for neither. Only with the Chancellor and Padme could Anakin be free to be himself, rather than try to be what he was expected to be.

Much to his surprise, the Chancellor himself responded to his comlink, sounding for all the world that he had nothing but time for his young friend, despite conducting a battle for the very survival of the Republic.

"My boy!" the Chancellor exclaimed warmly. "You're back on Coruscant - so sad about Master Kenobi – I hope he is recovering? Good, good. Listen, my boy, I can clear some time if you'd like to come over to my office shortly. Surely the Chancellor can spare some time for the greatest hero of the war."

Anakin flushed with the praise. Why was the Chancellor the only one to recognize his abilities? Commend his devotion to duty and support him without question? Trust him?

Anakin had been granted immediate access to the Chancellor upon his arrival, and Palpatine quickly came to his side and laid a fatherly hand on his shoulder while peering worriedly into his eyes.

"Our young hero, you look rather tired. Worn out with looking after your master, I suppose. You have fought so brilliantly, my boy, and they now have you playing nursemaid I do not doubt. Tell me, son, how is Master Kenobi?"

Anakin spoke of Obi-Wan's tentative freedom of movement and wasted frame, and before he realized it, he was pouring out all the pain and anger he had felt pressing in against him during the long period of waiting by his master's side fearing for his life, his fight to slip in between Obi-Wan's shields to take and disburse some of his pain in the medical center, as well as his hurt at Obi-Wan's sudden refusal to talk to him that first night home at the Temple.

"Even unconscious, I see he still doesn't fully trust you," Palpatine said gently, shaking his head. "Such folly on his part. You were only trying to help him, and his stubbornness scared you. Even now, he keeps his shields up, you say."

"Well…he was in a lot of pain; he was protecting me," Anakin protested. "I mean, I thought he was…he has always tried to protect me."

The Chancellor stared at him and leaned forward with a slightly incredulous look. "As he failed to protect you from Count Dooku? Refused to follow your lead and allowed you to lose your arm? Failed to protect your mother even though he knew you feared for her? My boy, you have such faith in your master. I hope it is not misplaced and I have merely misjudged the man."

Memories of his mother were too painful, and brought back other memories of darker deeds Anakin wished to bury. Her memory also brought up the hot flare of anger that still burned within him.

Obi-Wan had not taken his dreams seriously and his mother had died because of his master's refusal to let him go to her. No matter that Anakin had never confided the actual content of his nightmares to his master, or how awful Obi-Wan had felt when he had learned of her abduction and torture.

The padawan had had nightmares, and the master had dismissed them with gentle reassurances. Anakin would always harbor some resentment over that.

He didn't want to discuss this, not now. Trying to bury the pain that the Chancellor's words had dredged up from its deep burial in his heart, he went back to a prior point in the conversation.

"My master _was_ trying to protect me. I know he was; even unconscious and in terrible pain, he tried to shield his pain from me when I tried to take it from him."

"Oh, no doubt, no doubt. What would I know of such things? Still, after all these years together you might think he would trust you to know how to protect yourself. He knows you are far more powerful than he. You are the Jedi that will save the Republic – I have every confidence in you, even if your Master Kenobi does not have it and does not fight for your chance to advance. I so fear we may lose momentum with you tied up here at your master's side."

Anakin's face grew clouded. Palpatine didn't understand – it had nothing to do with trust. The two of them trusted each other. It wasn't about trust…he hesitated: why then did Obi-Wan keep closing him out? Just the other night, he had thrown up his shields over something as simple as a childhood crush…maybe Palpatine saw clearer than he, not blinded by the padawan's affection for his master.

"I fear for our beloved Republic," Palpatine said softly and for a minute his eyes showed his exhaustion. Anakin forgot everything as he saw how much of himself the Chancellor committed of himself; how deeply he believed in this fight.

"I can only hope that your Jedi Council sees fit to allow you back in the fight, rather than waiting on your master."

Anakin's chin came up at that. The Chancellor had no idea what he said: he wasn't a Jedi; he didn't know the strength of the master/padawan bond.

"My place is at master's side as long as he needs me," he said, steely determination in his gaze. "You can be sure that all the Jedi wish a speedy resolution to the war, Chancellor. It is not just clones who are fighting and dying out there."

'Oh, dear me, I've said quite the wrong thing, haven't I?" Palpatine said heavily, sitting down and beckoning Anakin to sit with him. "I never meant…my boy, I am so concerned with saving the Republic that I sometimes forget – you are quite right, of course. Your place is with your master. I am sure the others who fight are almost as capable as you. Of course, they don't care as much as you and I, but they are capable."

Anakin hoped so, too, for he just wasn't happy to leave the defense of the Republic – the salvation of this Chancellor who devoted so much of his life to public service – to others. It wasn't lack of trust, so much, in others, as it was faith in himself.

He knew his capabilities. He knew he could win this war, if he was let free. He was the most powerful Jedi, or would soon be, and he could force peace. Bring peace as a present to this man in front of him, who worked so tirelessly to secure it.

"Chancellor," he said warmly, filled with affection for this man who asked nothing and gave everything. "I promise you, I will bring an end to this war someday. Soon, I hope. I would leave this very moment, if my master didn't need me. That is my first duty."

The Chancellor smiled warmly at him. "Your devotion does you credit, my boy. Yes, your master would be quite lost if he didn't have your shoulder to lean on during this time, I'm sure – tell me, does even a Jedi get discouraged lying around dependent on another?"

Anakin blinked, for he hadn't quite thought of Obi-Wan's recovery in such a way. It seemed that he did little other than chores, for his master had not confided in him the frustration he must feel being so inactive and dependent on others. His master didn't seem to need his padawan's emotional support at all, now that he thought about it. His master's emotions and thoughts, as always, were hidden from view.

Did Obi-Wan even need Anakin's support? The thought disturbed Anakin more than a little. His master had even told him to spend time away, resting and relaxing – surely, he wouldn't have asked him to leave him if he needed his padawan at his side. Still….

Obi-Wan had never needed Anakin's support, not in the past and not now, not even after almost dying. Even after Geonosis, having watched his padawan lose his arm and having been wounded himself by his master's former master, Obi-Wan had not needed Anakin's comfort. He had stayed by his padawan's side, gently reassuring; a worried frown hidden on his face when he had thought Anakin was not looking and his eyes lost in pain and sorrow.

Had he grieved for his fallen comrades? For Anakin? For the fragile time of peace now transforming into a time of war? If he had, if the pain in his eyes reflected that in his soul rather than the wounds in his body, he had not spoken of it or sought comfort from his padawan.

Even after a year of fighting in battle after battle, seeing the dead and wounded and hearing the cries of the wounded – things that forced Anakin to harden his heart against – Obi-Wan remained untouched by the horror.

Anakin knew he had grown grim and quiet under the constant assault, but his master had not changed. Obi-Wan had never lost the ability to joke or to smile or to worry. War did not change the Jedi, for Obi-Wan did not allow it to do so. He kept himself aloof from emotion, and therefore remained untouched and unchanged by life or by death. Anakin wondered if his own near death had even touched the Jedi in any meaningful way.

Did life hold any meaning for his master? Or did his calm acceptance of whatever the Force willed mean he cared little about life or death, whether it be his own or others?

Perhaps that was why, even now, he didn't need his padawan at his side. Obi-Wan had never needed anyone; not when Qui-Gon had died in his arms, when he was wounded, or now when he had nearly died. All he had ever needed was the Force.

No wonder he encouraged his padawan to get away. He didn't need Anakin's support. He never had need to lean on anyone.

A Huttese curse escaped him, for he was now more than a bit upset – he had nearly worried himself sick over his master, but Obi-Wan didn't care or even barely noticed. Only his innate courtesy and consideration prompted his request that Anakin take time for himself.

Anakin found his hands were trembling, just a little, as he thought how little Obi-Wan apparently needed him. The Chancellor must be mistaken – surely, he had to be.

It could not be true that Obi-Wan didn't need him. But a seed of doubt had sprouted.

In his heart of hearts, he was no longer sure of anything.

* * *

Obi-Wan reflected that at least one good thing had come from his near-death: Anakin was getting some well deserved rest and time away from the stresses of battle. Had the Council ordered Anakin to another front, Obi-Wan would have fought to keep Anakin at his side – not for himself, but for Anakin's sake.

He had kept a watchful eye on his padawan, worrying about how he was changing. It was harder and harder to reach the joyful young man inside the tightly controlled warrior. He had fought to reclaim the boy inside the man, but he hadn't been able to breach the growing barrier between them.

They were closer than ever, more friends than master-padawan by now, but there was so much of Anakin inaccessible to him. Perhaps it was part of the distancing process, for Anakin would probably be knighted soon and the only bond that would remain between them would be that of friendship.

Still, he worried about Anakin, and supposed he always would. The worry had been there since Anakin's teary and trusting eyes had looked into his as they stood by Qui-Gon's funeral pyre. When he had accepted his young charge into his life and his heart and felt the first protective bloom of care for the life now in his hands.

His grief had nearly overwhelmed him, to the point he hardly cared if the Council noticed or cared. But the young boy had needed someone strong to guide him, and he had buried his pain within himself. For Anakin's sake, for if he had truly acknowledged and shown the depth of his emotions, Anakin would never have had faith in his master's strength. The new padawan had to witness the strength, not the grief.

Qui-Gon had always told him that someday he would know his own inner strength. He had had to reach deep to find it, but find it he had, in honor of his beloved master.

If only there was soon an end to this damned war – if only. But life was not built on what-ifs or could-have-beens. Life was, and the moment was.

Live for the moment, live in the moment. The future was tomorrow, always within reach but always out of touch. One could only live in the present, so Qui-Gon had so often admonished him.

So the struggling Jedi urged his padawan to relax in the moment: in this moment between battle and battle, where he now had a chance to relax and be happy. For however long he had. For now. For the moment.

His own future was still unclear. The Jedi didn't know if his leg would ever recover fully; he might limp for the rest of his life. His eyesight might not return. Dealing with the uncertainty was the hardest part. He knew he would adapt to whatever life gave him: he just didn't know when. Until then, he fought to release his fears into the Force.

Once again, Obi-Wan would be strong, for his padawan's sake. He needed Anakin's support, but Anakin needed release from stress. Anakin's needs – his padawan's needs – would always come before his.


	20. A Change in Routine: Seeking Normality

Several days of what now qualified as intense exercise for a man in his condition had already made Obi-Wan feel better and anxious for a change in his routine. Something, a hint of normalcy to show he was truly recovering. The healers had removed the restriction on visitors as the viral infection waned and Obi-Wan grew stronger.

Before retiring to bed, Obi-Wan casually suggested going to the mess hall for the next morning's meal. He was half afraid that he'd give away his inability to see, but he wanted to get away from his quarters badly enough to risk it. It would be a sign of recovery, and he wanted not only to be well and able to take care of himself, but to have Anakin witness it for himself.

In just a few days the healers would give their considered opinion on the return of his eyesight. He knew he couldn't delay telling Anakin much longer, and promised himself he'd do so after the verdict was in. If he had to tell his padawan he was permanently blind, at least he could now show him he was capable of functioning. Only a few more days, he vowed.

Just a few more days – until the healers verdict was in, until he could prove himself capable, just a few more days less of worry for his faithful padawan.

He wanted, no – _needed_, Anakin to be free of worry as long as possible, though his time away seemed to do him good – he fairly radiated pleasure and ease when he returned from his excursions.

Obi-Wan suspected his whereabouts, but stoutly refused to speculate further. Anakin was joyful and content, though still concerned with his master's health. The young Jedi had not emitted such happiness through the Force for years, and anything that might interfere with that was to be ignored or postponed.

That was the one good thing that had come out of their mission – Anakin had had a chance to relax, and for that, Obi-Wan was grateful. The young man he knew was emerging from the tightly wound warrior he had grown too familiar with in the last year.

Anakin had rediscovered joy.

Obi-Wan wasn't used to speaking openly of his feelings, and was more determined than ever to protect Anakin from his fears, but there were times he was tired of the silence, ached to unburden himself of his fears and doubts and seek reassurance. Just for once, he would like to pour out all his apprehension and frustration as most humans did, freely, verbally and without this need to release them directly into the Force.

But he would not burden his padawan with them, nor even speak freely to Bant. He had no right to add to their worries in order to lighten his own. Had Yoda been available, he might have sought his counsel, but the Council was occupied with new developments both military and political.

When Bant visited him, as she did daily, he was careful to hide or at least minimize his doubts and speak only of his latest success. He didn't know if Bant was fooled, but she didn't press him. Only once had he let on; a verbal slip when reminiscing about some past swordplay. He enjoyed sparring and had won numerous contests as a padawan. He felt complete with a lightsaber in his hand.

Now he might never feel the smooth hilt in his hand, the perfect balance as his fingers curled around the grip, and the pure connection to the Force as the delicate and yet intricate dance of the fight took place in the practice salles. At the thought of never holding his lightsaber in such a manner again, or wielding it against a worthy opponent such as his padawan, he had fallen silent as his throat tightened against the pain. Bant had silently gotten him a drink and patted his hand; then changed the subject.

When he felt most overwhelmed, Obi-Wan found release by speaking to Qui-Gon as though his master was sitting beside him, and at those times he could almost feel Qui-Gon's soothing presence wrapping around him and encouraging him to _feel the emotion,_ _Obi-Wan. Accept it and let it go_. He felt a bit silly at the same time he felt comforted, and decided it was probably just the release of speaking aloud of his fears; perhaps just the comfort his master's memory brought him.

If by chance his master, or the Force, chose to listen to him, at least the burden of listening to a troubled Jedi did not fall on already laden shoulders.

Rubbing his chin pensively, Obi-Wan sat restlessly, blind eyes staring into the distance after returning from one therapy session, and finding Anakin stillto be out.

"Master, it's hard to be accepting," he murmured. "I'm trying to accept it, I even find acceptance, and then suddenly I'm jarred back into realizing something else I can't do. How long will it be before I truly accept this? How I wish you were here to say in that placid way of yours that all will fine, no matter what. I want to see again, Master. Will I finally accept that I cannot once there is no longer hope?"

He sighed, for there was no reassuring rumble of words, no hand on his shoulder or understanding smile. He was quite alone – talking to one long dead and unable to speak, and unable to speak to one alive. Isolated in darkness; then the Jedi suddenly grinned at himself.

_You're a darn miserable fool, Kenobi_, he chided himself. _Stop feeling sorry for yourself – you still have the Force, you have your friends, and you have Anakin. You're not alone, and when you're able to move about freely, you'll realize just how pitiful you're sounding right now. Stop focusing on what you lost; focus on what you still have!_

He was able to laugh at himself after his little episode of self-pity, and was quite glad no one had been there to observe his momentary weakness. All in all, he felt quite satisfied that he was alive, pretty much free from pain, and getting stronger every day – satisfied that Anakin was happy again.

He would happily stay blind, if doing so kept his padawan contented and light hearted. One did not assure the other, he knew, for even if Obi-Wan was not able to rejoin the war, Anakin surely would have to. It was his duty as a Jedi, even if that very duty took the spirit away from him day by day.

Not for the last time, Obi-Wan wished the war would come to a speedy end. It was long past time – there had been too much death and destruction, too many lives lost, and too many wounded in body or spirit.

* * *

He stated his intention of going to breakfast the night before and Anakin nodded dubiously, not sure his master was ready or that the healers would approve. Without Obi-Wan's knowledge, Anakin called Bant, who hesitated before assenting to it, though she insisted Anakin stay at his side for the walk there and back for Obi-Wan was not yet capable of walking unsupported or too far at a time.

When Obi-Wan didn't emerge from his room at his normal time, Anakin thought with surprise that this was the first time he could remember when his master wasn't punctual to the minute. Obi-Wan would not have forgotten.

He was wondering if he should check on his master when he caught a sense of frustration and disappointment roll through the Force. The emotions were quickly tamped down, replaced by reluctant acceptance.

"Anakin, would you come here, I need your assistance," Obi-Wan's voice was tight with held back emotion. The Jedi didn't want Anakin's assistance, but knew he needed it.

Anakin knew he had to tread gently. A sick and less than capable Obi-Wan was a touchy Obi-Wan, so he would have to remain calm and unruffled. _Force help us both_, he muttered as he went to see what he could do.

He knocked and entered the bedroom. Obi-Wan was sitting on the side of the bed, half dressed and mouth creased in an obstinate line, but even his scowl would not make his recalcitrant clothing cooperate. He needed Anakin's help to get dressed.

The young Jedi's eyes widened with shock as he saw clearly just how Obi-Wan's injuries had marked him. His ribs and shoulder bones were all too prominent and pink skin that marked new skin over incisions gave him the appearance of a tattooed Satish with criss- cross tattoos. Somehow, Anakin had seen the wasted muscles of his arms without realizing it was Obi-Wan's entire body that had been so ravaged by his injuries.

"Force, Master," he winced in sympathy as he helped Obi-Wan slip into his tunic, helping him raise first one arm then the other as he slid the tunic up the arms and over his head.

"Dear me, do I look that bad?" the Jedi asked with a trace of a smile at his padawan's exclamation, then quickly covered his almost-slip by quickly adding, "I guess I hadn't realized how I must look to someone else."

"You look alive, Master," Anakin said firmly. "Weak, yes, but you'll continue to get stronger and better until you're just as good as ever. I'd rather see you like this than lying on a funeral pyre."

"Now that you mention it, it does beat that alternative," Obi-Wan agreed dryly. "Much as it pains me to admit it, I do need your help."

His fingers fumbled with his belt; Anakin swatted his hands away and fastened it for him. "My boots, please," he requested with a heavy sigh when he couldn't pull them on, and Anakin merely grinned and knelt down.

He knew better than to suggest his master dress in anything less than his normal attire; he knew Obi-Wan would refuse to appear in anything less. He even insisted on having his lightsaber clipped to his belt.

"Gosh, Master, you look almost healthy," Anakin breathed, once he pulled Obi-Wan to his feet. He held his master at arms length, looking him over. Dressed in regular Jedi tunics, the scars and thin frame hidden from sight, the Jedi was a far different man from the weak and shrunken figure who had returned to the Temple, fighting to release his pain into the Force and all but bedridden.

Anakin suddenly pulled Obi-Wan into a quick embrace, and to his slight surprise, he even felt Obi-Wan briefly return the hug before pulling back with a hint of a gentle smile on his face.

Anakin took his arm for what seemed a long walk to the mess hall. Obi-Wan limped slowly at his side, his steps slow and cautious and he leaned, just a little, on Anakin as his free hand lightly clutched a stick.

"I'll get your food, don't want your meal all over the floor if your grip slips," Anakin said firmly, guiding the Jedi to an empty seat and sitting him down at a table near a corner of the huge room before going to get him a tray of food. With so many Jedi away at war, the room seemed cavernous and almost empty, and all eyes immediately saw the two Jedi enter.

When the young man returned, he had to push through a small throng of Jedi surrounding his master, wishing him a speedy and full recovery. Anakin smiled at the sight, for his master was well-respected and liked, and whispers spoke of his being on the short list for the next Council vacancy: a rumor that Anakin suspected his master was entirely oblivious to. Obi-Wan looked a bit embarrassed, and yet humbly pleased, with the attention.

Anakin slipped in between several Jedi and placed the tray before Obi-Wan. "Let the man eat," he admonished good naturedly, and they made room, promising to visit now that the healers had lifted the restriction. Those not gathered around were smiling and nodding Obi-Wan's way, if not nudging their neighbors.

"You're quite the celebrity, Master," Anakin whispered in amusement. Obi-Wan's face flushed and the young man grinned.

"No reason to be," he said gruffly.

"Hey, you're alive," Anakin protested. "They all care about you. Even the Chancellor asked how you were doing when I first saw him; he was quite concerned about you. He asks after you each time I see him."

"Oh, ah," Obi-Wan didn't know quite how to respond to that. He had not thought – but of course, Anakin thought of the Chancellor almost as a father, and the Chancellor of Anakin almost as a son. He wasn't too pleased with this, but had no firm grounds for his disapproval. He had just assumed Anakin had been – elsewhere.

"How is the Chancellor?" he asked politely, to cover his momentary confusion.

"Concerned with the war, with the lack of progress we've had in ending it," Anakin said turning serious. "Especially now, that, well…." He trailed off.

"Yes?" Obi-Wan waited, eyebrow raised.

Anakin sounded embarrassed. "Well, now that I," he hesitated, corrected himself, "_we_ are not out there. He has a lot of confidence in my, ah, that is – _our_ – abilities."

"Oh." Obi-Wan clipped the word, his tone dry and humorless. Anakin had noticed the slight change in Obi-Wan's voice whenever the Chancellor was mentioned; he was never quite sure if it was a sign of respect for the man, or some slight misgiving, for Obi-Wan's words never revealed his thoughts on the subject. Even the slight change in tone was barely noticeable.

Anakin had first noticed it not long after some Senate vote for a constitutional amendment gave additional power to the Chancellor's Office, power he was sure the Jedi, including Obi-Wan, appreciated, for it got the war's direction out of the indecisive hands of the Senate into the hands of one who was prepared to take charge of directing the war himself – a move bound to hasten the war's end.

Thinking of the Senate brought Padme to his mind, and he added, "Padme…, uh, Senator Amidala, asked me to tell you how sorry she was to hear of you being hurt and how she would like to see you when you feel up to it."

"That is kind of Padme,' Obi-Wan said softly. "Why so formal, Anakin – we have all been friends for some years now."

"Oh, yes," the young Jedi agreed hurriedly. "My thoughts were elsewhere and I forgot to who I was speaking."

"Whom," Obi-Wan corrected him with a sly chuckle, enjoying Anakin's embarrassment. "Next time you see her, tell Senator Amidala that the healers have to give me permission to leave the Temple first."

"Don't you mean 'Padme,' Master? Now you're the one being formal." The tone was teasing and Obi-Wan just smiled, before turning his head in astonishment as he sensed his friend Garen Muln's approach. He had not seen his old friend in months and his arrival was a surprise.

"Garen," he exclaimed in pleasure. "I didn't know you were expected at the Temple –it's good to see you. It's been a long time, my friend."

The Jedi slid into a seat next to Obi-Wan, eyes appraising his old friend.

"I just arrived. Obi-Wan, I heard you were badly injured, and you look like it," he said bluntly. "But, I also hear you're recovering nicely and you no longer look like death warmed over. So, my friend, I assume you have some free time on your hands to catch up on things – I'll be around for a few days or so before I have to leave." He looked at Anakin and smiled in greeting.

"Playing nursemaid, I bet," he said, and Anakin grinned back. "I'll herd him back to his quarters if you need to be elsewhere."

"Off with you," Obi-Wan said to Anakin with a grin. Knowing he was leaving his master in good hands, Anakin nodded and left. Once he was out of sight, Garen turned serious.

"Obi-Wan, I've talked to Bant," he said, and Obi-Wan merely nodded and sighed. "Yes, I know most of the details and I know you haven't regained your sight yet. Somehow, I sense you haven't told Anakin."

Obi-Wan passed a hand over his eyes and sighed, again. "No, not yet. Soon…I'll see the eye healer in a few days and I'll probably know then whether, well, what to tell Anakin. Don't you start in on me, either. I know what Bant thinks, and the healers, and perhaps they are right, but Garen, he hasn't been this rested and content in so long – I just can't spoil it until I know something more definite."

"Stubborn Jedi," Garen said affectionately.

Obi-Wan just raised an eyebrow. "Why should I change now?" he asked.


	21. My Burdens are Mine Alone to Bear

Feeling a bit guilty over all the extra work the young man had taken on without complaint and still occasionally struggling for acceptance, Obi-Wan continued to encourage Anakin to take advantage of his free time. He feared all too soon either he would have to pass Anakin off, at least temporarily, to another master, or see the young man sent back to the war. The Chosen One had been too long absent from the war.

Was he doing the right thing for Anakin? Was he doing the right thing to Anakin?

He had needed a break, and Obi-Wan had provided that. Obi-Wan had needed him to rediscover his exuberant spirit, and Anakin was again light of heart, much to his master's relief and satisfaction.

But Anakin was a Jedi. He had duties and responsibilities that could not be ignored. He should be preparing for the trials, which should be soon in his future – honing his skills both physical and with the Force. Anakin was not a knight. Not yet.

Nor would he be, if he spent all his time relaxing and taking a break from the responsibilities of being a Jedi.

His master should be resuming his training; his master was as yet incapable of it.

The Jedi could speak of these concerns with his friends. Indirectly it gave him the chance to think about and discuss his own future, for in discussing Anakin's future, he had to discuss his own.

Trying to regain strength and stamina, Obi-Wan coaxed a reluctant Garen to accompany him on a walk around the Temple, using as his excuse his wish to speak of Anakin without fear of being interrupted by his return. He let go without comment the fact that Garen's hand hovered near his elbow, ready to grip it should he falter.

He wanted to review his thoughts with a friend, not just a fellow Jedi: try to decide what was best for Anakin before seeking counsel from Yoda or another Council member. They walked several circuits through the Temple as Obi-Wan tested his leg, but as he tired they returned to Obi-Wan's quarters where the Jedi could rest. He had overdone the exercise and only Garen's firm grasp on his arm helped steady him on the final leg.

Obi-Wan collapsed into a seat, glad to be finally sitting down and feeling less than pleased at his exhaustion.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, I should have noticed you were tiring," Garen said in apology as he heard his friend's sigh of relief as he took his weight off the weak leg.

"My fault, I wasn't paying attention to how long we walked," Obi-Wan said. "I still don't know what's best for Anakin at this point…I just don't know whether I should keep silent, ask for assistance training him or worse, tell the Council he should return to the war. I admit I don't want to see him go back, but we both need to – if I ever can, that is."

"No word yet?" Garen asked.

"I see the healers very shortly. I should have an answer then," Obi-Wan said with a sigh. "I just…wish I knew. I don't like uncertainty."

"And if the healers give you bad news?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I adapt." His simple words indicated he had no more to say on the subject. Garen was not going to let his friend off so easily, and was about to press him when the chime announced visitors.

It was a surprise visit from Yoda and Mace Windu. Garen immediately stood up and excused himself, patting Obi-Wan encouragingly on the shoulder as he left.

"No need to leave," Mace told him, but the Jedi smiled and said he would return at another time, bowing as he left.

"Master Windu, Master Yoda," Obi-Wan acknowledged, struggling to his feet until Mace caught his arm and tugged him back down.

"No need to stand on ceremony, Obi-Wan," he said gently, studying the Jedi's thin face. He knew Obi-Wan had looked far worse than he found him now, but he still found it disconcerting to see such a healthy, active Jedi reduced to this weary man leaning limply against his seat back as if needing its support, when normally he would have sat comfortably, one leg usually crossed over the other or if utterly relaxed, sprawled all over it.

Normally a man of medium stature with a fine boned face, Obi-Wan was finally filling out but his bones were still too prominent and indicative of how much weight his injuries had cost him. At least his color was normal and his skin had lost that translucent look it had; his eyes were bright and the look that marked him as a very ill man was gone.

"You're looking much better, Obi-Wan," Mace said. "The healers say you are gaining weight and getting stronger each day, but you look worn out."

Obi-Wan made a face at that. "I overdid it today; I'm not as strong as I would like to think. Anakin has been invaluable." He paused, wondered if he should broach the subject he'd been discussing with Garen prior to the two council members arrival.

"I've encouraged him to relax and enjoy himself for a while after all he's done for me and all he's endured this past year. However, I suspect his lightsaber skills are getting rusty as he has no one to train with. I wonder if I should rein him in a bit. Would you agree?"

"Agree, I would," Yoda nodded, well aware of the freedom granted the young man. "The trials we may allow him to take sometime soon, should he learn what he still needs to learn. Reviewed your last reports we have. Not quite ready he is, but soon perhaps. Strong and centered he should be and not lose focus. To fail his trials your padawan would not take well."

That comment alone indicated Anakin's lack of readiness in the Council's eyes. A Jedi was supposed to be serene and accepting; railing against failure was certainly not Jedi-like behavior.

"Perhaps the Chosen One is not meant to meet the same standards," Obi-Wan said. "Anakin has never," he hesitated, "behaved as a Jedi raised in the Temple, yet his power and accomplishments have earned him commendation. His disappointment should he fail the trials would be no less than my own. He is a very gifted and giving Jedi."

Yoda grunted and Mace settled back in his seat with no comment, leaving Obi-Wan to worry that his words had only awoken old doubts in the two. They had been intended to show support for his padawan.

Realizing now the potential consequences of leaving Anakin to simple pleasures since their return to the Temple, Obi-Wan made a little gesture of irritation at his lack of foresight. In his desire to see his padawan happy, he had neglected to take heed of the young man's future as he concerned himself with the present.

He suddenly wondered if in his desire to see the boy happy he had neglected to properly guide the boy all along. From almost the first, he had seen Anakin as a young man facing more than he was prepared to bear, starting with the death of the Jedi who had befriended him and removed him from the only home he had ever known.

The Jedi had never been quite sure how to deal with Anakin. He had tried tolerance, knowing the boy had not been raised as a Jedi. The boy had taken advantage of his master's leniency, his giggles and smiles softening deserved reprimands.

When Obi-Wan had realized that his master's tolerance was only allowing the boy's behavior to earn the Council's disapproval and unspoken displeasure from other Jedi, he had tried severity. His padawan only resented and fought the tighter discipline, coming as it did during the rebellious teen years.

He had been first a friend, then a taskmaster, and only now, when it was perhaps too late, did he realize what kind of master he should have been all along.

"I fear I may have done my padawan a disservice," Obi-Wan said slowly. "Yet he needed this break. You must have seen the change in him. I had been – concerned – for him." He didn't want to give the two Council members the wrong idea, but both Jedi had desperately needed a break and only Obi-Wan's injuries had granted them that. Anakin deserved his chance to take the trials, and the master did not wish to stand in the way with ill-chosen words.

"Hard on many Jedi this war is," Yoda uttered, nodding his head. "Know this, we do."

"Understandable your concern was, but we should have suggested something before now ourselves. You have been preoccupied with your recovery and your padawan with his freedom. We could arrange with some of the other masters to take on some of his training until you are ready to resume them," Mace suggested, leaning forward to look Obi-Wan in the face, even as he realized with a start that the Jedi couldn't see him. Obi-Wan seemed so at ease he had all but forgotten.

As if sensing his thoughts, Obi-Wan turned towards him and smiled. "I find my other senses have grown stronger," he explained. "I even think I have a deeper connection with the Force. While there is much I can't do, there is plenty that I can do, even if my eyesight never returns. I shall find complete acceptance soon."

"Hope, the healers still have," Yoda said earnestly. Obi-Wan's head swung towards him.

"Hope. I, too, but I fear perhaps not. I have prepared myself," he said, though a muscle in his jaw tightened just a bit, betraying his outward calm.

"Young Skywalker does not know yet?" Mace knew the answer, but he had to ask.

Obi-Wan's head drooped and his eyes turned to his hands, clasped in his lap. Old habits died hard, to all outward appearances Obi-Wan seemed normal, though Yoda had noticed that he had begun to swing his head to follow sounds even in situations he normally would have swung his eyes.

"No," he said simply. At their silence, he lifted his head in what seemed both defiance and contrition. "I know you think I should speak to him."

"Not for us to say," Yoda said softly, "But yes, tell him I think you should. Soon. Harder it will be, the longer you wait."

The Jedi bowed his head. He knew it was his own fears as well as his hope to spare Anakin worry that prompted his silence. Should Anakin struggle as his master expected with the news, Obi-Wan feared he would lose his own battle to remain strong. He could not expose his fears to his padawan. It was hard enough to admit them to himself, or the imagined figure of his master at his side when he could no longer hold them back.

It was his own steadiness and resolve that gave Anakin strength when he wavered under his own burdens. "The Chosen One" was a growing burden on Anakin. The boy was both fearful and fascinated with the potential of carrying so much fate on his shoulders. The only way Obi-Wan could help was to be at his side offering a steady hand and careful guidance.

Yoda and Mace glanced at each other; they recognized Obi-Wan's struggle though they were unaware of all the reasons the Jedi had for keeping quiet.

"I can't…how do I tell him? 'I'm blind, Anakin'? Don't worry, maybe I'll see again. Maybe I won't." He swallowed hard, struggling to maintain his Jedi calm.

How could he help Anakin deal with it, when he hadn't yet fully accepted it himself? Even now, he found it hard to discuss with the two Jedi; he didn't want to admit to his own inability to accept his condition fully and finally. A Jedi was supposed to face and release fear. He had found success, only to have the fear return at odd moments and sweep that acceptance away. As now; it was threatening to overwhelm him and he fought for control.

He sensed quiet concern from them; the two masters were offering comfort in their own way, not judgment, and giving him time to speak. Obi-Wan took a deep breath before continuing, trying to keep his voice steady.

"I don't want Anakin worrying as Qui-Gon did over Tahl. I don't want him doing nothing but fuss over me when he should be enjoying the first break he's had in over a year. You must have seen how rested and…and content he's been lately." His frustration was nearly hidden but bubbling near the edge of his control. Mixed in with it was concern for his padawan and uncertainty on the best course of action.

Mace put a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder until the younger Jedi showed signs of regaining control over his emotions.

"Obi-Wan, listen," he advised gently. "I know it's been hard, and on you two especially since we push you both so hard and give you so little respite. We don't do it because we want to, but because we need you, and we forget that even you two need a break once in a while."

The note of apology in his voice caused Obi-Wan to feel a bit ashamed. They weren't the only Jedi feeling the pressure of constant fighting. His hand sought his temple, rubbed it absently. He could feel a tight band of tension tightening around his skull underneath the weight of his fears. "I understand, truly Master, but Anakin is still so young. So many of the Jedi are so young. They have known little but warfare, unlike us older Jedi. It worries me."

"Change that, we cannot, until the war we end," Yoda joined in, though his voice held a note of sorrow.

"What will happen to Anakin if I don't regain my sight?" His voice shook despite himself.

Mace and Yoda looked at each, and then Mace said gently, "He will remain your padawan, Obi-Wan. We have no intention of attaching him to another master."

"Perhaps… you should. You need him in this war, and I - I can no longer fight at his side," he said, the words slow and hesitant. They were words he hated to voice.

He could no longer deny his duty. His duty to the Jedi, to the Republic, and to those for whom they fought – duty required that the "Chosen One" return to the battlefront. His duty to his apprentice had demanded he be given a break, but it was time to remember the greater good. Obi-Wan could not stand in the way any longer.

"He has a duty to you, as well as you to him," Mace said quietly. "Wars are won by more than just battles; there is plenty of time of him to rejoin it, when you no longer have need of him or he of you. He still needs you, Obi-Wan."

"Headstrong and impatient your padawan is," Yoda said with a rap of his stick. "Far more so than you at that age, more so than Qui-Gon. Tries your patience, he has often, and does not listen to more experienced voices. Still, trust you we do to teach him. Things there are for him still to learn. Better job no Jedi could do with that boy. A knight he is not ready to be, not yet. Still needs you, he does; by your side he remains until a knight he becomes."

"What Yoda means," Mace interjected, ignoring Yoda's glare, "we will address the matter when we must, Obi-Wan. For now nothing is to change, and he remains here with you until we have need to change it. But I agree; he should resume his training. I will see what masters are available to work with him as you continue to recuperate. I shall have them contact you. We will leave you to rest now."

At Obi-Wan's weary nod, Mace indicated with a turn of his head to Yoda that they should leave. As he stood, Mace turned and looked with compassion at the Jedi, who was now sitting with his head in his hands, exhaustion written in every line of his body.

"I am pleased that you survived your injuries, Obi-Wan, and are recovering so well. May the Force be with you, my friend." He smiled and patted the Jedi's shoulder as Obi-Wan's head lifted in surprise at his choice of words, and followed Yoda from the room with a hint of a smile on his usually dour face.

"Favorites we do not have," Yoda said fiercely to Mace as they walked down the hallway. "Friend, humph, indeed." But the little Jedi was smiling.

* * *

In Anakin's absences, Obi-Wan had been continuing to explore ways to use the Force to help him in areas that his eyesight had formerly done. He could sense obstacles and find his way with little difficulty, but even with the Force there were limits to what he could do without eyesight.

He was learning to overcome those limitations, and focus on his abilities and as his body grew stronger, his ability to focus on the _possible _versus the_ not-possible_ grew stronger, too.

By now well beyond needing to put his strength into survival, Obi-Wan was rapidly recuperating and doing well in therapy, able to turn the full power of the Force to healing. Therapy was quickly rebuilding formerly atrophied muscles; his grip was getting stronger and his legs were better able to support him so that he only needed one stick to assist him when his leg tired.

His hard work had paid off, for within mere days he was able to walk without aid, albeit a bit unsteadily and still with a bit of a limp, though not for long periods of time. Usually with Garen at his side, often Bant or Anakin, he roamed the Temple, happy that he no longer needed sticks or a friendly hand constantly at his elbow to support him, or when he returned without being out of breath and spent.

When he was both able to grasp and lift his lightsaber hilt, and hold it steady in his hand, he was inordinately pleased and decided to test himself against remotes in a secluded salle. The healers had not thought to forbid such activity.

As his fingers curled around the grip, he grinned. He knew he could do this. Temple exercises of fighting with eyes covered, blind to all but the Force, had prepared him. Fighting with a lightsaber had always been deeply satisfying, especially in the days when fighting was to win contests, not to kill before being killed. Now lightsaber combat was no longer a game but a means of survival.

For the moment, wielding his lightsaber would be again fun.

He desperately wished to engage the remotes at the highest setting, using the maximum number of remotes, but common sense commanded the Jedi to start as though he was but a first year initiate.

"One, no make that two remotes, setting alpha five," he commanded. Taking a balanced stance, his lightsaber at the ready, he spoke again. "Begin."

His grin of anticipation quickly dissipated as he realized he had a long way to go before he would be in fighting shape. He may have been back in his element, but he was unsteady and he tired far too quickly.

Parrying a flash, his arm dropped when it should have remained level, and only a desperate call on the Force to get his arm back up allowed him to block the _zap_ of the remote's red beam. Whirling to meet a second attack, his leg was slow to bring him around and a painful jolt stung his leg. The Force directed him to meet each attack, but his body was letting him down.

"End session," he muttered finally, and limped to a seat, breathing heavily and wiping sweat from his face with a sleeve. "A less than competent performance," he added unhappily, though well aware it was his physical weakness that had betrayed him, not his connection to the Force.

"For one all but dead not long ago, a commendable job," a familiar voice spoke up, and Obi-Wan looked up startled. "Knew not I was here, eh? Tightly focused, you were. So impatient to be well, you are."

That stung a little. Impatience had always been one of the traits he had fought to overcome. He thought he had, but it was still there, coming out in little ways at odd times as now. He bowed his head in acknowledgement, only to hear Yoda's chuckle.

"Reprimand you, I won't. Understand I do. But if overdo it you do, and set back your recovery, my wrath you shall face."

"Wrath ill becomes a Jedi," Obi-Wan retorted with a chuckle of his own. "A severe frown from you is more than enough to keep me in line. Did you need me, Master Yoda?"

"Need, no," the little Jedi said. "Time free I had, check on the initiates training classes I did and saw this room in use. Suspected it was you, I did. So many Jedi away, so rarely used are these salles these days." A note of sadness permeated the Jedi's voice, and Obi-Wan bowed his head in agreement.

"To your quarters you return? Accompany you, I shall."

Obi-Wan stood, and clipped his lightsaber to his belt. "I'm ready," he said and got slowly to his feet. Perhaps he had overdone it a bit, or just missed too many zaps. He was stiffening up. Yoda handed him his stick without comment, though he felt the Jedi's unvoiced concern.

"Hard to deal with this, it must be," the Jedi finally said noncommittally, "yes? Speak to no one, do you, but hold it all in as always. Qui-Gon, force you to face your fears, he would, be there for you. Shall I too, if you allow."

Obi-Wan swallowed; it would be a relief to speak his feelings, but as always he found it hard. He thought of making a snappy comeback, something about how a Jedi feels no fear, but Yoda would see through him. Yoda always seemed to know how he felt. Yoda had been there for him after Qui-Gon's death, after Geonosis and was offering to be there for him, again.

It was one of the things that endeared Yoda to the younger Jedi.

"Seeking acceptance you are, Obi-Wan, but found it you have not. Not completely, not yet. Unable to speak to your padawan, you are, send him away you do so face him you do not. Unfair to him, it is. Your friends, hide from them do you also."

Yoda only sounded this severe when he was concerned and trying to help. Obi-Wan frowned. Was that how Yoda saw it? Was he hiding from them? He didn't think he was hiding from them, only hiding his fears. They were only fears and they would be conquered. There was no need for them to deal with them. He was the one who needed to deal with them.

"I do not wish to burden them with something that will soon disappear," he replied after reflecting on Yoda's words. "I have not yet totally accepted my blindness, you are right. Nor do I know if I will regain full mobility of my leg. But I am finding acceptance, day by day. I _have_ found acceptance – only to lose it every so often."

"Help you, your friends can. A burden shared is a burden lessened."

"They have their own burdens to bear." He was thinking of Anakin.

"Share theirs you would. Know this, I do. Know your heart I do, hidden though you keep it. Never hesitate to help others, do you. Hesitate not to let them help you now."

When he was younger, he could lean on his friends as they on him. But with maturity had come steadiness and strength, and he knew his friends had come to rely on it. Anakin relied on it. The boy still needed stability and firmness in his life, and only his master could provide that as yet.

"My padawan relies on his master's strength." He didn't realize he was speaking aloud until Yoda snorted at him.

"Strength a Jedi finds within, when strong he needs to be. Strong always you think you must be. Great strength you have within you and a fine example to the younger Jedi you are. But folly it is to think one must be strong all the time. Your padawan measures himself against you and finds himself lacking, as did you with Qui-Gon. When a padawan knows only his master's strength, and sees weakness in himself, falls short he thinks he does."

"In power Anakin measures himself against no one; in his abilities alone does he trust." Obi-Wan's words were rueful.

"A bad measure for a Jedi that is, unless balanced by good judgment and wisdom," Yoda chided him. "In power alone one does not measure oneself."

"My padawan does," Obi-Wan grinned, though it had long been a source of contention between the master and padawan. He had tried hard to get through to Anakin that power alone did not make a Jedi. He quickly sobered, for this had become a serious discussion.

"Anakin does not bother to measure himself against anyone. He has too much faith in himself for that." He knew this to be true; yet there was truth in Yoda's words. How many times had he found himself lacking when measured against _his _master? Anakin was not he, however, and his confidence was immeasurable.

"Like many of the young ones, he measures himself against you as a man as well as a Jedi, even if you know this not." Yoda snorted at the startled expression on the younger Jedi's face. "Too modest you are, Obi-Wan. As a role model you see yourself not; yet to others, you are."

Obi-Wan felt the heat crawl up his cheeks as he flushed at Yoda's words, and he stammered back, "I don't know why. There are plenty of Jedi who would be better role models than I. Force, just thinking how Anakin and I argued in the past – well – we were a pretty fine example of how not to behave I would think."

"Still, a strong team you were, as now. Respected that we did, even if before the Council you were both called more than we liked. Scheduled you once a month we did for a while just out of habit." Yoda chuckled, and Obi-Wan relaxed. As the master, he was responsible for Anakin's behavior and too often had found himself defending himself and his padawan in the first few years, knowing all the while that the discipline was more than deserved. Usually they had escaped with little more than reprimands and rebukes.

After returning to their quarters properly chastised, Obi-Wan never knew whether to add his own scolding, or let the Council's words stand on their own.

"Before the Council often you stood, first with Qui-Gon and then your padawan. Rarely was it your behavior that we discussed." Yoda sounded amused. "Yet always you were there, before the Council. Sit on it one day you will."

"I'm…I'm sorry?" he stammered.

"Heard me you did," Yoda said, thumping his stick against the floor. "Surprised you are, eh? Laughed did Qui-Gon when I told him that years back - said he would have failed you had he made you into a conventional, rule-obeying proper Jedi, worth little other than sitting in Council handing out edicts. Teasing me he was. Proud of the Jedi you are he would be, as am I. Good judgment you have, but taking the right path with your padawan now, you are not."

"But I respected Qui-Gon's strength and sought to emulate it." Obi-Wan protested.

"Qui-Gon Jinn you are not. Obi-Wan Kenobi you are, and Anakin Skywalker is not a young you. Resentment he finds when always strong you are, respect your strength he will when he knows weaknesses you too have. Respect your own master less when he was weak you did not. Sought to give him your strength you did until his own he regained, much comfort he found in you he confided. Deny that same comfort to yourself you should not."

That silenced Obi-Wan. Yoda was right. He had never thought less of his master when Qui-Gon had admitted he needed his padawan's support. He had felt needed, and proud to return something to the man he both respected and loved as teacher and friend.

The little Jedi watched silently as Obi-Wan reflected on his words; the play of memories that swept across his face.

Finally, Yoda spoke. "Your padawan, young Skywalker is. A team you are. A boy he is no longer but needs you he does and to know that you need him also he needs. Dealing with this on your own, Obi-Wan, a disservice you do him. Your motives pure they may be, but harmful they may also be."

Before Obi-Wan could respond, Yoda's comlink signaled to him. After a brief conversation, Yoda laid a clawed hand on Obi-Wan's arm.

"Go, I must. Further on this I wish we could speak. Unburden yourself, you should. To your friends speak; your padawan also. Need them you do, as they need you to need them."

The Jedi stood dismayed and deep in thought, as Yoda's steps tapped away. Was that how his friends saw his silence? Anakin? That he didn't need them, now when he knew just how much he did need them and how much he relied on them? They had been at his side giving him strength as he fought for life; they had held his hand when he could barely think for pain. Their very presence had been reassuring when he needed reassurance.

He had taken what he thought he needed from them, but did he need more? Did they need to give more than he allowed them? Was he, perhaps – selfish – in how he dealt with this?

The Jedi bowed his head. It was his own fears as well as his hope to spare Anakin worry that had prompted his silence. Was he only deceiving himself that he was silent for Anakin's sake?

Confused and uncertain, the Jedi knew he had a lot of thinking to do. He would clean up and then seclude himself for some deep meditation.


	22. Interruptions

After much meditation, Obi-Wan was confident that his dominant motive in keeping silent was his wish to protect Anakin and to not interfere with his relief from stress. However, he did have to admit that his own fears were a strong component: that and his usual hesitation against revealing his deepest fears and feelings. He would speak to his padawan as Yoda suggested. He would always trust Yoda's judgment over his own, for the Jedi master's wisdom was legendary.

"I will talk to him,' he promised himself. "I don't know how…but Yoda is far wiser than I. I just wish…I didn't need to spoil his rest."

He wasn't looking forward to speaking to Anakin, not at all. It was not just the thought of admitting vulnerability, a weakness he preferred kept out of sight. Nor was it fear of Anakin's reaction. Anakin would be upset; that he could handle. He expected no less. Anakin had been upset in the past and would be in the future. It was part of his nature. He reacted to emotional triggers well before his mind caught up and tempered his reactions.

He should perhaps tell Anakin to listen carefully, to just hear his master out without comment to something his master found it difficult to speak of, to be blunt – say, "Anakin, I have talked to the healers and need to tell you what I wished I did not. I am blind, and not expected to recover my sight."

Yet he still didn't _know_ if he would see again. The healers would give him their verdict in a few days; he would pass from uncertainty to certainty, and then he could accept his fate. He would have no choice.

His fears would flee, once hope was discarded, should that be the outcome.

Despite all the other considerations, what Obi-Wan regretted the most was disrupting his padawan's contentment. Anakin had been so unhappy, so disgruntled until lately – so tired of war and missions, of expectations. The burden of being the "the Chosen One," words he heard more and more often. Geonosis had changed Anakin. The two Jedi were both closer, and further apart, than they ever had been.

Not until now had Anakin been truly happy, and now, Obi-Wan knew, that happiness was bound to evaporate under one more worry the young man would shoulder. And it was all his fault.

And one more burden that Obi-Wan could not protect him from.

* * *

Anakin entered their quarters as Obi-Wan was leaving for therapy. The Jedi hesitated and the hand he started to raise faltered: this was not the time to speak; the therapist expected him. He suspected their talk should not be interrupted and well might take some time. It would not be as simple as, "Padawan, I'm blind, I'm struggling…help me, thanks," followed by, "Glad to be of help, Master, see you later."

Later; perhaps over their meal.

Obi-Wan's nostrils flared as his hand pulled back; its original intent to settle on the young man's shoulder and guide him to a seat, ask to speak to him. Anakin was pleased, an air of satisfaction filled him and a faint odor of perfume clung to him. No doubt the boy had been taking in some of the entertainment mid-level Coruscant was famous for, though the whiff smelled familiar, expensive. Obi-Wan sniffed and felt his padawan stiffen.

"When you were little, it was oil and grease I usually smelled on you. As an adult, I see you have graduated to a somewhat more pleasing," Obi-Wan sneezed, "fragrance. At least you seem to frequent the higher class places nowadays."

"You might be surprised, Master," Anakin said, sliding away before Obi-Wan could grasp his arm as had seemed intended. "I attended a Senate debate and then visited Padme in her office between committee meetings."

"Did she drench you with perfume? The only other way you would still smell like that was if you were - ," Obi-Wan wasn't going to allow _that_ thought to even form.

"She dropped the bottle and the spray went off," Anakin said hastily and changed the subject. "She still wants to see you, you know, once the healers give you permission to have outside visitors."

"I would like that," Obi-Wan said. "Oh, by the way, I have arranged for some training for you. You didn't mention any plans for this afternoon, so you're expected down at the training salles in a half hour. Several of the masters have agreed to assist in your training until I am able to resume it. It is time for us both to remember you are a Jedi, not just a man of leisure."

Anakin's disappointment bounced through the Force. Obi-Wan hid a smile. Nothing would restore his padawan's good humor as much as several intense training sessions. Still, he was not surprised that Anakin rather resisted it when he mentioned it.

"Padawan, we both knew this break would come to an end. At least you are easing back into it; you could have been sent back to the war before this," he said patiently. "I can't spar with you, Anakin, and you need to keep your skills up. Without constant practice, even you can get a little rusty. It could mean life or death. I wouldn't want that on my head. Go on with you."

He had shooed Anakin away, hiding his grin.

He was back from therapy, sitting in quiet meditation when Anakin returned. His padawan brought with him an air of satisfaction that was almost a wave in the Force. The Jedi looked up and smiled.

"Bested the masters, did you? And to think I practically had to drag you down to the salles myself and shove you inside."

"Won all three matches," Anakin boasted proudly. "I don't think my skills are rusty at all, Master. I bet I could even take Master Windu without breaking a sweat."

"Don't be cocky, young one," Ob-Wan admonished out of habit. "It would take you and another Jedi together to take Master Windu. Over-confidence is as much a hindrance to success as is the opposite."

"But you're always confident, Master," Anakin argued.

"There is a difference between confidence in one's abilities, and over-confidence. The second can easily lead to underestimating one's opponents. That is one of the first lessons my own master tried to teach me."

"Master Qui-Gon said that? Then I suppose I should heed his wisdom." Anakin ducked as Obi-Wan threw a pillow at him. He threw up a hand and the pillow reversed direction and almost smacked Obi-Wan in the face.

"I'm sorry, Master." He was torn between laughter and dismay. "Your reflexes are still slower than usual; I forgot."

"Yes, I'm afraid so," his master said with a sigh. "I don't know what's worse, being deathly sick, or half healed and unable to resume normal activity. In a day or so the healers may give me clearance to resume light duty."

"That's great!" Anakin said sincerely. "Maybe they'll let you supervise some of the saber training classes for the initiates."

"I don't think so," Obi-Wan shook his head firmly. "That is beyond my capabilities at this time, much as I hate to admit it. No, not that - I wouldn't be able to demonstrate correct moves, or…or anything." He probably couldn't stand that long, and he couldn't even see the initiates' skills, except through the Force itself.

"Creche duty?" Anakin suggested. "You could regale the younglings with tales of your padawan's daring and bravery – you know, inspire them." He grinned crookedly.

Obi-Wan stared at him. "We want to encourage them, not discourage them," he said dryly. Anakin's grin only grew wider. Obi-Wan was cracking jokes again, bad as they were. His master was truly recovering if his sense of humor was asserting itself.

"Anakin," he hesitated. "Would you sit down, I would like to speak to you about…well, everything that's happened – my injuries and how it may impact your – our future, even perhaps your training. We need to talk."

Obi-Wan almost looked sad. Or was it some other emotion?

"Sure, Master," Anakin agreed, giving him a curious look. No, not sad he decided. His master had a most reluctant look on his face, as if therapy hadn't gone well. Perhaps his leg wasn't healing properly and he would always be half-crippled! If so, at least he would be safe, not able to return to war. A surge of relief surged through him. He wouldn't have to worry about losing his master. Obi-Wan would be safe!

Maybe Obi-Wan knew that Anakin was being sent back to the war, and had been told to break the news to him.

"Anakin." He shook his head, the words catching in his throat. "I - ."

They were interrupted. Obi-Wan prepared to speak – and his comlink signaled. Master Kenobi's presence was requested immediately; the Chancellor was meeting with the Council and the Council needed the Jedi who had handled that campaign to join them. Would Obi-Wan come now? Obi-Wan hesitated and several emotions crossed his face – eagerness to agree, dismay, uncertainty.

"We'll talk later, Master – you can't ignore a Council summons," Anakin said. "Just tell me – they're not sending me back to the front without you, are they?"

Obi-Wan smiled. He knew that determined tone; Anakin was all but holding his breath for his answer. "No, Padawan. For now at least, they are allowing you to stay as long as I am able to teach you at least a few things that don't require mobility on my part."

Anakin's sigh of relief followed him out the door.

By the time he returned, Anakin was absent. Obi-Wan sighed. Events were conspiring against them. At mealtime, he thought, then he would finally have a chance to introduce the topic weighing on him.

He decided to surprise Anakin by preparing a simple meal before his padawan returned; something that would set off no smoke alarms or sprinklers should he misjudge some cooking. Noodles and vegetables, he had decided. Burners he could handle; the ridges on the knobs clear indications of settings and the heat or lack of confirming which were in use.

He could neither bake nor broil – both beyond his current capabilities he knew, unable to judge the temperature setting or degree of doneness. At least right now.

He filled a pot with water; set it next to the burner while he clicked it on, held his hand above it to feel the heat before sliding the pot onto the warming burner. Reaching into the dried food shelf, he plucked a packet of noodles and carefully tore the packaging open and dropped several handfuls into the boiling water – the small pops of breaking bubbles audible with Force senses attuned.

Mentally keeping aware of time's passage, he felt in the vegetable bins for familiar textures, lifting several to his nose to confirm he had what he wished – items he could sauté and confirm cooked by a stab of a utensil rather than change in color. This would require careful attention, but this he could handle. A dollop of oil sizzled in the pan as the Jedi carefully slid the cut up pieces into the pan and stirred, his attention carefully divided between the two burners.

The noodles cooked, he carefully carried the pot to the awaiting strainer and poured. A cloud of steam rose in his face as he jerked back, beads of moisture glistening on his face as he maintained his grip on the pot. Setting it on the counter, he turned his attention back to the vegetables, stabbed several pieces at random for doneness and satisfied, turned the knob until he heard the click, his hand floating over all the knobs to assure that all knob ridges were lined up and all burners were off.

Anakin returned as he was finishing and the young man grinned.

"Hey, cooking's my job while you are recuperating, Master," he protested. "Besides, you are not the neatest cook I've ever seen. Such a mess you've made, here let me finish up – go, sit, read a holonovel or something."

"I'm not helpless, Padawan," he said a trifle sharply and recognized his sharpness as nervousness. He didn't see Anakin's grin, but heard his sigh: his apprentice seemed to be picking up one of his own habits.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi is never helpless, but he _is_ under his padawan's orders to take it easy until fully recovered," the young man said firmly. "It's the least I can do after this extended break you've given me. Go, go on…I'll finish up," and he shooed his master away from the little kitchen.

"Anakin…," he tried again to protest, but was interrupted.

"I've learned how to deal with you from Bant. Don't give me any attitude, Master. Just quiet down, sit down, and accept my help, you stubborn Jedi. Padawan Skywalker is in charge of the food preparation and clean up."

Obi-Wan smiled, though his words were stern. "That is no way for a padawan to address his master. I am perfectly capable of disciplining you with a stern scolding."

"Ah, but you wouldn't. You appreciate all I do for you. I know you need me, even if you don't or won't admit it." The words were impertinent, from a padawan who knew he would be allowed to get away with his jesting, yet there was yearning hidden within it.

"Anakin." His mouth was dry. Here was his chance; he cleared his throat. "I do… I do need you. That's what I've been trying to tell you, though we keep getting interrupted. Master Yoda has made me realize that I do need to…to admit I do need you and need to tell you so. I need you to help me – I need to speak to you about certain things."

"Sure, Master," his apprentice said cheerfully. "Right now, it's time to eat. You can tell me what you need me to do afterwards." As Obi-Wan began to protest, the young man took his shoulders and pushed him towards a seat. "Not now. Later. Food cools down. Whatever you need me to do can wait. No, Master. Later; I refuse to listen to you until you've eaten."

"Who's the stubborn one now?" The demand was laced with a wry chuckle.

"I learned from the master," Anakin said, his eyes twinkling. "I would suggest that you shut up and eat, but I believe that comment would not be well received so I shall refrain from saying such a thing. Perhaps I learned wisdom, too, from my master."

"Impudent brat," Obi-Wan muttered, remembering how many times Qui-Gon had called him a "wretched brat" in jest over just some such thing, though he had never dared to the same level of impertinence that his own apprentice had displayed. Perhaps Anakin would pass on the tradition; perhaps "saucy brat" or "cheeky brat." The thought rather cheered him.

His padawan happily spoke of his various activities, while Obi-Wan mainly listened and nodded attentively – his padawan was certainly taking advantage of his freedom and enjoying himself. Those excursions that had Anakin so enthused held no attractions for him; certainly not the visits with the Chancellor or the visits to Coruscant's lower level shops and dens of unsavory sentients - hives of scum and villainy. His apprentice's voice was filled with delight as he spoke of seeing a variety of beings emerge from one shop well decorated with permanent tattoos.

The way his padawan spoke of one particular design had him hoping such a lurid and colorful design did not newly adorn his apprentice's body somewhere. The thought of Master Yoda staring out sternly, a hand pointing "anywhere you want" according to Anakin's inspired description while supposedly proclaiming "The Force Is Here" - and he didn't want to even imagine where "here" was meant to be - he winced and hurriedly released that picture into the Force.

Forever, he hoped.

Anakin was teasing his master, for he had snatched time with his wife after one committee meeting had been suddenly cancelled. He had been inspired with this tattoo idea to deflect his master's questions and carefully hidden his delight at Obi-Wan's horror. He knew his master was afraid to even ask if Anakin now had a Yoda somewhere on him.

He wasn't about to tell Obi-Wan about the holo-serial cover he'd seen of the "Great Negotiator" and "Hero Without Fear" clutching their lightsabers aloft in carefully determined poses, proclaiming, "The Sith Stops Here." The author had dredged up some old history and taken various liberties, obviously having no clue that the Jedi suspected Sith involvement in the war. The story was laughable, though he had been vastly entertained.

The credits to purchase it would have been worth the look on Obi-Wan's face, once he had seen the twenty extra pounds of muscle the illustrator had given him, the title, and the scantily clad beautiful T'wilek cowering between the two Jedi for protection, gazing at the young Jedi with adoring eyes as the older Jedi glared.

His master would be enraged at the storyline: the less than bright Jedi master was completely captivated by the beautiful girl, revealed only at the end to be the evil Sith lord, and ready to renounce the Jedi Order for love, while his faithful and ever loyal padawan saved his master from ignominy and the galaxy from the Sith. Obviously, a fan of Anakin Skywalker, the author had been careful to change names to avoid any legal backlash – or perhaps the publishers had encouraged the illustrator to use as cover models two well known Jedi, modified in appearance but recognizable.

He would save that for another time he might need to distract his master.

The still-shuddering Jedi master grabbed a brief opening in Anakin's chatter. He was long done with his meal; Anakin was too, apparently, for his utensils had not clanged against his plate for some time.

It was time to speak.


	23. Time to Speak but Not to Hear

"You don't know how pleased I am to see you happy again," Obi-Wan interrupted during a brief pause in Anakin's spirited tale of his latest adventure. "You were so dispirited for so long, and I wanted to help, but didn't know how. You wouldn't tell me what was bothering you, and I – well – I guess I was hoping you would tell me what troubled you rather than my having to ask you. Nor, I'm afraid, have I spoken to you about – well, my frustrations about recent events, not wanting to add to your burdens, but we're a team; we should speak of our fears and doubts to each other."

He was re-introducing the topic slowly. He just couldn't come out and say, "Padawan. I'm blind; I'm struggling to accept it; I need your help." His slow approach went awry; Anakin assumed his master was asking Anakin to speak of his fears and doubts, rather than being the recipient of his master's confidences, for some barrier dropped between them.

Obi-Wan tried not to sigh, rubbing his hand over his chin: Anakin didn't want to tell his master what had been bothering him for so long. It couldn't be just the war, the expectations on him – a break from all that should have eased all that, yet a few simple words had brought it back without warning.

Did his padawan think his master would disapprove? Be disappointed? As a padawan himself, Obi-Wan's greatest fear had been of letting his master down. Qui-Gon had never let disappointment at his padawan's mistakes be disappointment in Obi-Wan.

Perhaps Anakin hesitated to share his problems with his master because he had no reason to believe his master would understand and accept without judgment – had he been so dismissive? Intentionally – no. He had treated Anakin as if he were a young Obi-Wan soaking in Qui-Gon's gentle lectures.

So that was what Yoda had meant. Of course.

Anakin was not Obi-Wan; never had been one to just accept another's words, whether it be his own master or one of the Council. Age and experience never overruled his padawan's belief in his own judgment. Obi-Wan saw now his mistakes - lecturing when he should have listened, telling Anakin _what _to do when he should have said _why_. He had thought his own master a wise man, the Council members too, and absorbed everything they said; Anakin had always been confident in himself and never willingly deferred to another unless persuaded, rather than told.

Perhaps he had found an opening to speak to his padawan over what had been bothering the young man for so long – his own need suddenly secondary. He could speak of his own needs, once he helped his padawan with his. He spoke very gently, hoping to make it clear that the young man could confide anything in his master without fear of repercussion.

And then, then he could share his apprehensions with his padawan. Even if he was no longer struggling for acceptance – or rarely doing so – he would let his padawan know that he was not alone in seeking acceptance and release.

"I'm here for you, Anakin, nothing you can say will make me disappointed in you," he said, reaching an open hand towards his padawan and resting it on the table between them. "You know you can always speak frankly to me. Maybe I haven't always made that clear, or been the best example of open communication and I'm sorry -."

"Master, don't apologize," Anakin interrupted. He was tempted to remain silent, but as much as he could not – would not – speak of his wife and the pain of constant separation from her or of his annihilation of an entire tribe of Sandpeople in retaliation for the murder of his mother - he yearned to speak to his master, man to man, not as padawan to master.

Too often Obi-Wan lectured him when he should listen, but the Jedi was making an effort and Anakin had to reciprocate, offer something in return.

Sincerity and genuine concern radiated through the Force; had his master always offered that? Had his master's understanding always been there, waiting for Anakin to reach for it? The young man realized his master would never force confidences from him; had waited patiently until his padawan sought to share them on his own. Obi-Wan had always been there for him, beside him, waiting for his help to be requested. Now he was reaching out tentatively; Anakin could do no less. His own hand extended forward and flattened over his master's waiting hand.

Strong fingers curled around it, squeezed gently. Warm, inviting…saying _I'm here, I'm listening…if you're ready, Padawan, I'm here waiting_.

He wanted this, desperately. The last year had forged their bond into genuine friendship. They relied on each other. He was an adult now, and acknowledged as such by his master. His master had become his best friend after all they had endured side by side; he wished he could share all his secrets with him. He could not, however, force Obi-Wan to choose between his duty to the Council and duty to his friend and padawan.

Anakin had married and he had murdered, both violations of the Jedi Code he had sworn to uphold. Those were his burdens; his alone to bear.

Yet he had to offer something in acknowledgement, Anakin knew. Wanted and needed to share, even. Carefully walling off all thoughts of his wife, those he murdered, he let his barriers thin and felt Obi-Wan's relief. His master had been waiting for this for a long time, he suddenly knew with joy. His master truly wanted to help.

Anakin's hand squeezed back suddenly, and Obi-Wan sighed. At last, finally he might be able to help his padawan as he had so long wished.

The Force suddenly seemed a live thing connecting them through their bond: _all things are possible_ it seemed to beckon - and Obi-Wan leaned into it and felt its truth, _knew_ that to lean on another was not weakness. He felt Anakin's need, too – each needed the other; each could be in turn strengthened by giving support as well as receiving it.

Truly, a burden shared was a burden halved. This simple truth seemed so evident now.

A moment's hesitation ensured as Obi-Wan wondered if perhaps he should confess his need for his padawan's support first; if that admission from his master would make the young man comfortable with confessing his own problems, or if he should give the young man a chance to seize the opening he seemed poised to reach for.

He had wanted this kind of openness between them for so long, the Jedi master realized. Now, perhaps it was within his grasp. All he had to do was open his heart and let it guide his words; he knew the depths of his padawan's compassion. It wasn't weakness to need help; it was strength that allowed one to ask for it.

If he opened his heart, would Anakin follow suit?

"A-," he spoke softly, but Anakin was already speaking, not hearing Obi-Wan.

"It's not you, Master, not really," he tried to explain. "It's the war, and you can't help with that. I don't mind the fighting, but I can't stand all the pain and suffering we see. Our friends die…Jedi after Jedi die: so many people die, and there's no end to it. I don't know how you can stand it, can remain so calm that you sleep without nightmares. How do you remain unaffected by it all? Nothing ever touches you; sometimes I envy you and sometimes I wonder how you can be so unfeeling, when I – unlike you, I feel all of it. It - it hurts."

"It wouldn't if you would just center yourself, Anakin, release those feelings," Obi-Wan responded automatically, the words escaping before his mind could silence them. Words oft spoken and little heeded, spoken kindly at least. They were true; he had learned this long ago but Anakin had not yet discovered their truth.

This was another part of the problem: both spoke and neither listened, their conversations replayed over and over. His padawan heard the words and tuned them out, not hearing the concern in his master's voice, or the words as ones that could truly help.

The Jedi could feel a flash of irritation through the Force and knew he was right. Had he too often lectured to Anakin, when he should have merely listened? He offered a wave of silent apology and felt Anakin accept it, to his relief. The apprentice had felt his master's genuine concern and remorse, and was willing to forgive him the automatic rejoinder.

He got to his feet and limped over to stand behind Anakin, and laid gentle hands on his padawan's shoulders; touch sometimes reached Anakin when words would not.

"Easy words, you're thinking, words I have offered before, but it does help. Once I learned to find my center, no matter what, I learned how to deal with whatever I faced. You might not believe it, but my emotions were rarely under my control as a young boy. I was always fighting to subdue anger or impulsiveness. Those emotions are always within me, even now, only now I have control of them when once they had control of me."

"You? Lacking emotional control?" Anakin was surprised. His master rarely spoke of his past and seemed never at the mercy of his emotions.

"Me," the Jedi nodded, a small smile playing over his face as he remembered Yoda's earlier comment on his impatience.

"Yet the war doesn't affect you – it's like a Temple exercise to you." Anakin blurted.

"Do you really think that?" There was astonishment and even sadness in his master's voice; a voice that had softened with his words.

"Well…you're always so calm and accepting about everything…I've never seen you upset, just a little worried or frustrated sometimes, but even that never lasts long. It's like nothing can ever touch you." Anakin shrugged uncomfortably.

"You truly think I, too, don't feel all the pain and suffering we face? The death and destruction, the exhaustion battering at us when we're cold and hungry, wet down to the bone with no shelter or parched with little shade or water, wishing that we so-called civilized beings could resolve our differences peaceably? Wondering when did the Jedi become the soldiers rather than the peacekeepers?"

Anakin was in his turn surprised by the quiet depth of emotion in his master's voice. Was the older Jedi that adept at emotional control that his padawan had never seen this before? Before he could comment, Obi-Wan resumed speaking, his voice pained and quiet, reliving memories that Anakin barely remembered.

"My ears hear the cries of the wounded, my heart feels the fear of the dying…are these memories now a part of who you are, too, my padawan? The trooper stoically facing death as the life bled from him despite our frantic efforts to save him, the apprentice not much older than you who begged that we be merciful and send him to be one with the Force where the pain would be no more?

Do you still see the anguish in his master's eyes - she who wanted to honor his request, but could not end his life - who watched aghast as the boy plunged his own lightsaber into his chest to end the horrible pain? The flash of the knife in her hand - did you see her eyes or into her heart as her padawan died with a smile on his face and his braid in his hand?

'Go be at peace in the Force' - did you know I was the one who whispered the words in his master's heart but not on her lips, for grief had silenced her voice? That I handed her that knife, wet with my own tears, grateful that it was not my padawan on the cold wet ground asking for a merciful death that no Jedi can grant, and the guilt that thought engendered? Did you see her arm on mine, forgiving me that thought though it was her padawan lying dead at her feet by his own hand?

The faces - so many faces – do you remember them, Anakin, or do they only haunt you in your sleep?

I remember those faces…

….do you remember the faces of the innocent we freed on Rebus Five – terrified, numb – scared of the Jedi who saved them because we, too, were just other soldiers, no different in their minds than those who had treated them so brutally…the child who howled when I sought only to comfort her, for she expected something terrible at my hands and the mother who begged that I hurt her instead of her daughter...dear Force, how can I not be affected by it?"

His words hung in the air, the very quietness of the words betraying the anguish behind them, and Anakin felt humbled by them. If it was possible, Obi-Wan's voice had softened even more as he continued.

"I can refuse the memories, Padawan, or I can choose not to purge them from my heart and accept the pain, to know I can still be affected by the suffering of others. I _do_ refuse to let it change me; I face it, accept it and even release it but I will not ever allow myself to _forget_ it. I have to fight against the horrors of war every day for otherwise I fear I would lose my compassion and humanity, and that would be true horror for a Jedi. For me. I would rather die in battle than have my heart harden against suffering, for that would harden it to life, to the Force, too. I can not let that happen to my heart."

He hesitated a moment as he let the ever-present pain surface; let it touch his heart before he released it, and Anakin felt his master's deep sadness touch him through the Force. The war did affect his master, Anakin realized as he had not before, his master's distress palpable. Anakin twisted and saw Obi-Wan's bowed head, eyes lost and unseeing, and in sudden sympathy the padawan's hands came up to pat those always-strong hands laying so gently on his shoulders.

The touch pulled Obi-Wan from his introspection and drew a slight smile onto his face. His hands grasped his padawan's. Such moments as this between them were all too rare and all too treasured. He wished he didn't have to end the moment, bring the conversation around to his sight or lack thereof. Yet, might not Anakin offer that same soft sympathy when he knew of his master's struggles to accept the same?

He cleared his throat and spoke gently, hesitant to risk spoiling this long-desired emotional connection.

"Release those feelings, Padawan. That is the only way we Jedi can face all that we face all our lives. We can be dragged down by all that we face, or we can stand up to it. Our despair, our pain, and even our losses."

Losses! Anakin had just been thinking what a powerful lesson in _letting go_ his master had demonstrated, but at the mention of losses, he felt an old and powerful ache awaken. It was never far from him; a word alone could send reason fleeing from the anger buried within. Mom! He still hadn't forgiven Obi-Wan for not allowing him to go after his mother, to save her, and the rage rose within him aimed all at his master – the man he held responsible for his mother's brutal death.

"When have you ever faced real loss?" Anakin flared. Obi-Wan's hands tightened on his shoulders, but the Jedi's voice was as steady and calm as ever.

"I saw my master die in front of me on Naboo, helpless to intervene. I saw friends and colleagues die on Geonosis, fearing their deaths were on my conscience because I had been taken captive there. I saw my padawan lose an arm while I could do nothing to prevent it. I have seen friends, enemies, and innocents die in this war. I know loss, my padawan. No less so than you."

"And still you wouldn't let me save my mother. I could have saved her, Obi-Wan, if you hadn't stood in the way. My mother died because of you."

Obi-Wan tried not to wince, but Anakin had the satisfaction of feeling Obi-Wan's hands move off his shoulders. He had pierced his master's serenity, no matter the even tone the Jedi retained. He couldn't feel guilt; only satisfaction.

"What can I say to that, Anakin? You never told me the contents of your dreams. I had no way of knowing. You know how sorry I am that she died and that I wish things had gone differently, but neither of us can change what has already happened. I can't bring back Qui-Gon Jinn and you can't bring back your mother. We've had this conversation before."

Obi-Wan drew a deep breath and stifled a sigh. _Why now_? Anakin could not let go of the past. He had never been able to get Anakin to _face_ and then _release_ his emotions. He had hoped for so long to be the recipient of his padawan's confidences, to help him, and the joy that had filled him when Anakin seemed to accept his invitation to unburden himself had startled him. Had he been waiting all these years, when all he should have done was offer his support?

This conversation had started off so well, but was not now going as planned, derailed with old complaints and old hurts. It was rehashing old wounds and reminding him of the difficult years he had thought now past.

Perhaps now was not the time…then again, perhaps he should speak of his needs and get Anakin's mind off old grievances. He replaced his hands on his padawan's shoulders, soothed the knots under his hands with strong fingers until he felt Anakin relax and the surge of raw emotion begin to recede.

"Padawan. My apologies; I have not meant to upset you. I have no wish to revisit the past, except when it impacts the present and the future. I know the burdens you carry, and have no desire to add to them. That is why I have not spoken to you as I should have before this, to let you know how I, well, how I appreciate your being here for me. I have needed you…it has not been easy for me…"

"You think it was easy for me, Master?" Anakin demanded. "I was the first one to your side; I was the one who breathed for you, made your blood circulate when your heart refused to. I wore your blood like a cloak. I worried myself sick over you while you slept oblivious to my pain; I had to beg you to let me help you by taking some of your pain from you – I watched you deteriorate in front of my eyes day after day! You would have died and left me, Master, and you only came back because I begged you not to abandon me. Would you have left me had I not been there to call you back?"

"I can't answer that, Padawan," Obi-Wan said reasonably. "Had I died, you would have found a way to deal with it. To live or to die is rarely a decision we are allowed to make for ourselves. I will die someday, as will you. Death is something a Jedi accepts when it comes. Until then we live our lives as we are best able. If we are lucky, we can do much good while we live, and leave the galaxy a better place when we rejoin the Force. We can take comfort in our friends and stand at each others' sides, offering and even accepting their help."

He hesitated; knew that wasn't much of an invitation for Anakin to pick up on though he was sure the ever perceptive young man must sense his reaching out for help. Anakin was still partially closed off to him, but only partially. He tried again.

"Sometimes, sometimes even Jedi have to admit when they need help." He paused, decided just to state it calmly. "Anakin…as I need yours - _I _need _you_, your help - I can't see -."

"I don't need your help, Obi-Wan," Anakin snapped, overriding his master's softly spoken words. "Like you, I can deal with what I need to deal with on my own. I've lost track of how many times you've told me that a Jedi finds what he needs inside himself rather than expecting it to come from outside. I'm doing just fine without you pushing and prodding me, and I am well aware that you have no need of me except to take charge of the housecleaning while you recover – which I do gladly, because I do care about you, Master. I love you, much as you infuriate me. But I'm under no illusion that you need me."

"Anakin, no, what I've been trying to say is that I do, well, that I _do_ need you," Obi-Wan countered. "Blast it, this isn't easy for me, but I need to talk with you. Didn't you hear me? _I_ need _you_…please, listen to me. There are things I'm struggling with…and I thought perhaps, well, we could talk – you could help me…."

His unspoken plea – his outstretched hand – hung in the air. One unheard and one unnoticed.

Anakin gave a sharp snort of laughter and stood up abruptly. Obi-Wan's other hand dropped from his shoulders as Anakin turned and shook his head at him.

"I have my own problems, Master. I deal with them as you have taught me, by myself. Perhaps you should follow your own advice and do the same. You should release your problems into the Force, not transfer them to me."

Anakin stalked off, and Obi-Wan sank into a seat, shaking his head, worried and more than a little hurt, but accepting responsibility. Apparently his padawan had absorbed some of his master's lessons, even if he applied them injudiciously.

"Well, that certainly went well," he remarked, directing his remarks at an absent Yoda. "Why is it that I have gained a certain reputation as a negotiator, and I can't have a civil conversation with my padawan when I try to have a heart to heart talk with him? Must old wounds constantly resurface? Why can't I choose my words wisely with him when with others I can?"

He winced and shook his head at the slamming of Anakin's bedroom door.

Anakin paced his room, happy to get away from that disturbing conversation. As soon as the memory of his mother's death resurfaced, all the old pain and anger had returned and dominated his thoughts. Obi-Wan could have told him he had been knighted and he wouldn't have registered the words.

His mother's death was an open wound from which he would never recover; no matter how many times Obi-Wan apologized for keeping him from her. Because she died, her son had done the unthinkable. Anakin had slaughtered an entire tribe: males, females and children.

Their murders had gone against all Jedi tenets. Anakin Skywalker had embraced evil.

Yet even now, he couldn't feel remorse. It was a terrible, despicable act, and part of him gloried in it despite all. He had taken his vengeance on those who tortured and killed his mother, she of gentle soul and loving heart.

That he had murdered was not his fault; it was all his master's fault for he had not let Anakin go to his mother. He had dismissed his padawan's dreams with soft words, assuring him that dreams passed in time. Obi-Wan had been right – the dream passed into nightmare - the bonfire of his rage consuming him, his lightsaber slashing without remorse and without pity until not one of the Sandpeople lived, from the ones that snarled at him and fought back, to the tiny bundle clasped within its mother's arms.

That burden lay at Obi-Wan's feet, even if the Jedi master was unaware of it.

He would bear his own burdens; let Obi-Wan bear his own, not add to his padawan's. Assuming, of course, that the ever serene Jedi ever had burdens, for he released them all to the Force. He never carried them for long, had he ever had any.

Let his master find his own solutions to his problem. The Force was always with him; let it take Obi-Wan's problems, instead of his padawan.


	24. Of Hate and Healing & Unresolved Issues

Anakin rolled off his bed and padded to his door to finally emerge from his room, his emotions only simmering whereas before they had raged. He had lost control, and he was ashamed – not of his feelings, but of expressing them so vehemently. His master would no doubt lecture him on self-control, and as usual, Obi-Wan would be right.

Again.

How he hated that.

Obi-Wan was _always_ right, and Anakin found it infuriating as well as a bit endearing – the latter only on the occasions when his master was right and the one in the wrong someone other than his master's padawan.

He admired his master's calmness and often wished he could find the same, but all the same, the young Jedi rather resented it. His master was the very model of a Jedi – tranquil, powerful, and unflappable. He was courteous and kind, discounting a certain tendency to sarcasm when even his serenity was hard-pressed. He had no weaknesses that Anakin could ascertain, other than an inability to be fallible.

Anakin knew he could never be the Jedi his master was, and wasn't sure that he would even want to be.

_He _knew passion; it was both a blessing and a curse. He knew love – he loved his master and he loved his wife, each in different and no less meaningful ways, yet he hated with an ease that scared him. Resentment, envy, fear – he had never found a way to escape their clutches when they coiled around him.

His master – other masters, too – praised his compassion and giving nature, but never knew of his struggles to contain the darker emotions when they beckoned. His emotions ran higher and brighter, and darker and colder, than any Jedi could imagine, they who found it easy to keep centered and serene.

Balance – he wanted to find a balance between his master's cool serenity and his own warmer passions.

He was proud to be Obi-Wan Kenobi's padawan and proud to be his friend. He loved and admired him, but oftentimes he was exasperated with him. His master might be a perfect Jedi, though he was not a perfect man. The standard he set was an impossible standard to live up to, even though his master had never expected perfection from him.

He expected it from himself, for the perfect Jedi deserved the perfect padawan and Anakin knew he fell short. What he had once suspected, he knew without doubt when he had awoken from raw rage to a living nightmare.

Tatooine. A symbol of a fiery inferno that burned within and without.

He had found his kidnapped mother, beaten, nearly dead, barely alive, only to have her whisper his name with love and die in his arms. She had waited for him. Suffered, endured, held on, until her son could hold her in his arms.

And the raw rage that had been buried deep within him awoke. _They_ _shall pay. Blood shall be repaid in blood. Spill blood, as your mother's eyes spilled tears – it is only just_.

And the boy that had dreamed of saving others awoke from a dream of power and vengeance with bodies littering the ground at his feet. _Vengeance is mine_, his mind had whispered, gloried in his triumph over evil, smiled even.

Then his eye had fallen on a small bundle cradled against a chest. A child, only, yet one of _them_.

Evil.

And yet, so tiny.

And the power and the rage and the glory drained from him, leaving him empty. Even the Force had fled from him, unable to face what he had wrought.

And he was just a man, with blood stained hands wearily clasping a silver cylinder, surrounded by the silence of empty nothingness. Nothing, except the echoing stains of death bleeding over the landscape. When morning had come, faint and thin, even the harsh Tatooine suns feared to touch him and fled into the comfort of a rare cloud.

The slayer of evil was revealed in the weak light to be just a man - a weeping man crumpled on his knees: weeping for the Jedi he had hoped to become and the Jedi he had failed to be; weeping for the mother that had loved him enough to give him up though for love of her he had descended into the fiery pits of hell that boiled deep within him; and weeping for what his mother's murderers had made him into.

Weeping: that love had driven him to madness; that love had not saved him from this horror, that love had abandoned him – he reached to the light as darkness dragged at his soul, arms outstretched in a plea for understanding.

He was one man, kneeling alone in the desert, surrounded by carnage and death. Alone.

Where are you, Mom? Where were you, Master? Why didn't you keep this from happening, Master! I needed you, Mom needed me; why did you not let me go before this? Why did you let me go alone? Why did you not protect me from this?

Why did you let this happen!

In that weak light he returned to his mother's side. Her son's hand tenderly stroked his mother's face; he cradled the body in his arms. But even her spirit had fled from the roiling emptiness that had once been her son.

"Tell me I am your son," he wept. "Tell me I am your son, for only then am I absolved from what lies around us. Your son loves, for his mother taught him nothing else. Mom, please…don't look at what I've become – what they made of me. It was for love of you that I killed them, not hatred of them. It was them, mom, who made me what I am."

And the sun withdrew deeper behind the cloud; the wind began a shriek that grew in intensity, a keening that hurt the ears.

He had wrapped his mother in a shroud of cloth and tears and taken her to her husband; her body was his to mourn over, for Anakin knew his mother had long since fled that shell of broken bones and torn sinews.

He could not hide his weeping, not from Padme. Despite her horror, she comforted him and did not turn away from him. Even if yet unacknowledged, her love absolved what his mother had not. He was loved. He had been wronged – terribly wronged – and the man who had paid the price was the Anakin Skywalker who had died that day, on the blood stained sands of Tatooine.

A new Anakin Skywalker had risen. And this one knew hate and the power of rage; this one was stronger. This one was powerful and would never again allow something he loved to be taken from him.

And the knowledge of what his mother's murderers had made of him, the power they put in his hands burrowed deep within him until he next had need of it, a coiled serpent waiting its moment to strike. And no one saw what was within him.

Anakin Skywalker held it deep within him where it would not escape his control.

His master mourned with him, grieved for him, and had never once even suspected the turmoil in his padawan's soul; the ugly stain that permeated his being. At times, Anakin hated his master for not forgiving him for the evil he had done, thereby cleansing him of the same.

But Obi-Wan Kenobi could not forgive what he did not know of. And his padawan was not about to risk that his master would not extend it.

* * *

One thing both Jedi had made an inviolable rule was never to retire for the night without resolving any differences they may have had during the day. Angry words and hurt feelings – usually on Anakin's part – had stretched several evenings well into the morning before one or the other had extended a gesture of reconciliation. Often it was Obi-Wan who initiated the truce, though as Anakin grew older and learned that making that gesture earned his master's approval, he had learned its value for peace of mind. Their arguments were not necessarily resolved, but harmony restored.

Obi-Wan had chosen this night not to knock on his door, lean against the frame with a shake of his head and a slight grin twitching at his lips at Anakin's gruff, "come in." The young Jedi knew he had been out of line. He didn't regret his words, but a master deserved more respect. _His_ master deserved more respect.

Obi-Wan had almost _died_, and though he was nearly recovered, he was not yet well. His padawan had dismissed his frustrations, caught up in his own remembered fear of losing his master forever.

_Release those fears, Padawan, and then they will have no power over you_. He sighed, hearing oft-spoken words in his mind.

He needed to make the peace offering this night. Sighing, Anakin rolled off his bed and opened the door to his room. He could just see the back of Obi-Wan's head; his master sat slumped against his seat as if half asleep.

"Anakin."

His master's even tone betrayed nothing as he looked up at the sound of soft footsteps, straightening up in his seat. Their last conversation may as well have been discussing laundry arrangements. Anakin pushed down his resentment. He had sulked for a good hour or more, and here his master had gone calmly on with his life.

"Master."

He saw Obi-Wan's hand brush over his chin, something he did when deep in thought or concerned. It cheered him a little. Obi-Wan had not so easily dismissed their argument, even if he had _let it go_.

They both spoke at the same time: "I apologize for my harsh words, Master," from Anakin and "My apologies, Padawan," from Obi-Wan.

Silence hung in the room, though the tension had lessened.

"Anakin, we will speak of this tomorrow," Obi-Wan said finally. He could feel exhaustion battering at him. Still not physically strong, the argument – the long-desired emotional closeness so abruptly ripped into shreds of emotional distance – had taken its toll on him. He just couldn't handle Anakin, or at the moment, even himself.

"I appreciate your finally taking some of my lessons to heart, but I wish you would be more judicious in your application of them – your understanding is yet incomplete. Your manner of speaking was, shall we say, less than appropriate, though arising from deep grief. I do understand. There are things I must speak to you about unrelated to those festering issues, but I just can't muster the energy tonight. Don't forget you have several training sessions scheduled for tomorrow morning."

"Master, I am truly ashamed…my tongue runs away with me sometimes," Anakin said humbly.

"Master Yoda would say: _his tongue is faster than his mind_," Obi-Wan said, smiling faintly. "_Master his tongue and speak with deliberation, your padawan must_. You must know such outbursts, while thankfully rare nowadays, are one reason the Council hesitates to let you take the trials. They are otherwise impressed with your conduct during the past year. Don't spoil it, Padawan."

The Jedi slowly pulled himself to his feet, wavered a moment as he rubbed his temple. "I am more tired than I realized. Good night, Padawan."

"Master?" The worry in Anakin's voice caused Obi-Wan to pause.

"I thought your headaches had all but disappeared. Bant said it was a result of swelling in your head. I thought you were now free from them."

"I am prone to them, Anakin. I suspect it may be an outlet for emotions incompletely released; no Jedi achieves perfect serenity even if it appears so to another – with the possible exception of Master Yoda. He's had many more years to perfect it."

"Let me help you to your room – you're almost stumbling." Anakin tentatively took his master's arm, waited for the expected withdrawal and stern admonition that he was perfectly capable of walking from one room to the next without assistance.

"My thanks, Padawan. It is good to have your arm to lean on," Obi-Wan said with a soft sigh. "I accept with thanks. I am feeling rather battered at the moment."

Anakin guided his master to his bed and sat him down. Obi-Wan didn't protest when Anakin removed his boots, helped him slip into nightclothing and guided the still thin shoulders onto the mattress.

"You do need me, Master," Anakin said, half teasing.

"Mmm, I'm glad we both realize it," Obi-Wan murmured. "Thank you, my padawan. I do forgive you, you know. Anything."

* * *

Yoda was always available after his morning meditations, so Obi-Wan sought him out first thing in the morning. Yoda greeted him at the door and his ears drooped when he saw Obi-Wan and his sober face. He could tell the Jedi had tried to speak to his padawan, and the talk had not gone at all well.

Still, he was pleased that Obi-Wan had come to him for help, for he knew the Jedi's reluctance to speak of failure.

"Well it did not go, it seems," he said, voice placid, and invited Obi-Wan in, both Jedi settling down on comfortable cushions, half smiling at Obi-Wan's soft spoken, "I would deem it an incomplete success."

He listened quietly as Obi-Wan spoke, a bit hesitantly and leaving out some of the details, to Yoda on the outcome and the old Jedi merely sighed.

"Stubborn, like his master," he muttered, and Obi-Wan wasn't sure which of them Yoda had been referring to. "Try until succeed you should," he added.

"Try?" Obi-Wan grinned, and quickly shuffled his feet out of the path of Yoda's gimer stick, expecting a light whack on his ankle.

"Unless tie and gag the boy, _do_ you can't alone. Both of you it takes to _do_. Only one of you to _try_." Yoda insisted. He stifled a chuckle at the Jedi's deft footwork. "Hard you find it, Obi-Wan, but a Jedi master you are. On your apprentice's needs you must focus, and be firm. Do this you can. Do this you must. Your padawan's best interests you have at heart; his master you must be, not a friend. A padawan is to be protected from harm, not from life, or a Jedi no padawan could ever become."

Yoda's face softened at the rueful look on the younger man's face. "A common mistake a master makes with his first padawan. Guide him on his path, your duty it is, not protect him from it."

Obi-Wan ran his hands through his hair, nodded. Yoda was right: Yoda was always right. It was his job, the master's job, to teach and to guide. To protect from harm, but not to protect from life's harsh realities, rather, learn how to face them. As a Jedi would. As Anakin's master had forgotten he should do.

Anakin had faced many harsh things in his time as a Jedi. Now was not the time to start protecting him, even if he was only protecting his apprentice's happiness. That was not his role. He was Anakin's friend. But he was his master before that.

"I understand my failings with him."

"Failure, no," Yoda replied. Chuckled. "Incomplete success you have found. Good it is that you have admitted his help you need. Spoken it you have, hear it now he must. Succeed you will, young one. Faith in you I have."

"I will do what I must. My path is clear before me, and I thank you for the lesson, Master Yoda."

The newfound determination in his voice made Yoda nod approvingly. "A lesson you have forgotten and relearned, Master Obi-Wan. Self-knowledge is a path, the journey never complete. Learned that you have; apply it now."

Obi-Wan bowed, walking slowly back to his quarters.

He knew now he had been on the right track when he sought to help Anakin deal with his problems, not avoid them. Before it had gone so wrong. The young man had truly begun to understand just what finding his center meant for his inner serenity. When he learned that, he would have mastered himself, and then he would be finally ready to take the trials.

Anakin still needed his master's guidance. Not lectures, not automatic rejoinders – guidance. He didn't need eyesight for that. He needed an open mind and open heart.

He had let his padawan deflect their conversation; he had not remained firm in his resolve to speak. He had let his need to help his padawan overtake his need to speak to him; Anakin's problems had brewed for a year and could stew a while longer if needed.

Anakin needed to hear the truth about his master, and it was up to Obi-Wan to get the message across. That was his first priority.

This time he _would_ succeed. Obi-Wan would ask for his padawan's help and reinforce his need through the bond. The young man instinctively responded to a direct request for help; it was one of the things that would make him a fine Jedi. The indirect approach was too subtle, too apt to go wrong.

Then his appointment with the healers was moved up. Today, could the healers see Obi-Wan today?

Obi-Wan wasn't aware that Anakin had contacted Bant, worried about his master's sudden exhaustion the previous night. The Jedi had been scheduled for a health review shortly; they would see him today.

Obi-Wan slowly made his way to the Healers Ward. He had not quite told his padawan the full truth; he was there to have his eyesight re-evaluated as well as obtain the Healers' consent to return to light duty. He had been surprised they had rescheduled, but it made little difference. It might mean a quicker return to light duty. It might also mean the end of hope that he would regain his sight; loss of that hope would speed acceptance.

No reason to be nervous, he told himself. What will be, will be.

* * *

"Ah, Master Kenobi, good to see you looking so healthy," the eye healer said cheerily as he sat Obi-Wan down and prepared to peer into the wounded eyes. "Do you see anything – spots, light, anything?"

The Jedi thought, for just a brief moment, that the shroud of darkness had been pierced by a faint light, but it wasn't there a moment later. Hope! He still clung to hope despite all, let it deceive him into wishful thinking. Pure stubbornness on his part. His lips tightened with disappointment. "No, nothing," he said reluctantly.

"That's okay," the healer said cheerfully. "If your eyesight is to return, it could still do so, it's just less likely to. Sometimes it just spontaneously returns, and we healers have no explanation for why or how. Uncommon, but still it happens. Have you told your padawan yet?"

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan sighed. "Master Yoda persuaded me to try. I was unsuccessful. I won't delay it any longer. I had hoped…I would not need to, or at least could give him good news. But at least now he will see that I am capable of taking care of myself and not worry as much about me as he would have had he known earlier."

"It is beyond time to tell him,' the healer said, for once serious. "It won't be long before he finds out on his own, or someone mentions it to him. The news had best come from you." He patted the Jedi's shoulder as he nodded in silent agreement. "Okay now, off to those other healers for the rest of your evaluation. The Force be with you, Obi-Wan."

"And with you," he returned as he headed back out to the reception area. He was pleased to note his leg didn't hurt too much, though he still limped when he walked.

"Anything to report, Master Kenobi?" the duty healer greeted him. At his head shake, she continued. "Any news on your eyes? Oh, I'm sorry, your eyesight hasn't returned yet? We'll keep asking the Force to heal you. They're ready for you, down the hall two doors to the left."

"Thank you," he inclined his head. He walked down the hall and entered the room, sensing a chair to his right and sitting down. He had to wait only a minute before a healer joined him.

"You need to slip out of that clothing - I want to take a good look at your leg and those other wounds that just about left the Order short one valuable Jedi master," the healer said, drawing up a seat and watching to see how mobile Obi-Wan was.

Obi-Wan snorted, but obeyed with little protest. The healer hid a smile. Apparently all the poking, prying, and hooking up and everything that had been done to him had made him more - compliant. He was probably sighing in relief that he was at least allowed a modicum of modesty.

Manual Dexterity: good, the healer noted in his datapad; then looked up.

"Master Kenobi, are you getting around okay?" he asked. At Obi-Wan's nod, he added, "Steady on your feet or not?"

"I made it here without incident," he said dryly, though he unobtrusively rubbed his leg. He had really overdone it the previous day.

"Still a bit stiff, it looks like," the healer added, also dryly. "Are you eating and sleeping well? In any pain? I'm going to put my hand on your face now so I can sense what's going on inside of you. Good, very good. We had a report that you seemed rather exhausted yesterday; your padawan was quite worried about you. Said you had a headache, too."

Obi-Wan sighed. Now he knew why his appointment had been changed.

"My padawan worries too much. It was a stressful day yesterday and I overextended myself is all. A good night's sleep and I am fine, assuming you concur." He raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

The healer poked and prodded, ran some more tests on him and finally allowed him to slip back into his clothing.

"Your leg is nearly healed and I am pleased with the muscle you've rebuilt. You'll be glad to know your heart is beating away as it should, and you're breathing." The healer chuckled as Obi-Wan snorted. He could have told the healer that himself without the bother of getting out of his clothes and having fingers poke and pry at him, stick things in his arm, presumably drawing blood, and all sorts of indignities that healers loved to inflict on patients.

If he was lucky, he would avoid this place for a long while.

The healer patted him reassuringly. Why did healers think they needed to reassure someone reasonably healthy that they were alive and reasonably healthy?

As Obi-Wan drew his tunic over his head, he imagined the healer was adding information to a datapad. The procedure never varied; he had sat too many times in an exam room not to know. In a moment or two the healer would make his pronouncement. Obi-Wan waited patiently.

"Tell you what; I'll release you to light duty if you promise to carry a cane with you until you can walk an hour without stumbling or any stiffness, or any time you leave the Temple. The bone has healed well, but no gymnastics for a few more weeks. Continue with the therapy you're doing. We'll see you in a couple of weeks, if you behave yourself, let me just update your chart before you leave."

The healer got up and opened the door, but rather than exiting, several of the healers crowded in and surrounded Obi-Wan.

"What's going on?" he asked suspiciously, sensing the light mood. This was certainly not normal procedure.

"We're celebrating the first time you've avoided getting worse when you visit us!" Bant said merrily. "I guess you were just in such bad shape, it just wasn't possible for you to get any worse."

"Who shall have to suffer my cold hands?" Vari V'keny sniffed and hugged the Jedi. She whispered for all to hear, "I'll miss you, handsome. Don't come visiting." To his embarrassment, she kissed him and he blushed, much to the delight of the other healers.

"Well, maybe because I was allowed to recuperate in my own quarters," he teased back, a delighted grin on his face as they groaned in unison.

When they had all left, he got to his feet shaking his head in pleased embarrassment at their cheerful farewells.

"Obi," Bant said pointedly, "You're not fully recovered yet, you know – you just don't need monitoring anymore, or such a comprehensive check up. Expect to take one or more months before you try to resume your normal activity."

"What will be normal if I don't regain my eyesight?" he asked, exiting the room as she held his arm, not to steady him, but as a friend.

"That is something you will have to find out for yourself, Obi," Bant patted him on the arm and let him go. "I'll come by later, okay? We'll talk about it. You're going to talk to Anakin, aren't you? Do you want someone there with you?"

For a moment he was tempted to answer "yes," considering the recent fiasco when he had made a futile attempt.

It wouldn't be fair to Bant should the same argument ensue in her presence. This was an issue between a padawan and his master, one too long avoided. He knew that; had already decided to speak and warned Anakin the night before.

It would not go well; he had long known that, but it was time to disrupt the peace between them. He needed to be firm: Anakin's master. A Jedi master. His padawan was sure to be anxious to know the healers' verdict. He rehearsed words in his minds as he left.

_Padawan, I'm expected to make a full recovery – my leg is merely weak but it is healing well and they expect my limp to disappear. However, there is one thing that has not healed - my eyesight. I held out hope I could tell you that my eyes would be fine eventually; let you know that I was perfectly able to function blind. Now there is little hope, but know that I was silent for your sake. I wanted to spare you worry._

_I was wrong, and I had come to that realization before this – forgive me, Anakin, for not being upfront with you – I only hope you can understand my silence and forgive me…._


	25. Lies & Deceptions: Shattered Trust

Anakin had been too concerned to sleep well that night. Usually an argument with his master sharpened the Jedi's voice and pulled a slight crease between his eyebrows, subtle signs he had gone long without noticing, the already straight posture stiffening to an impossible degree. Obi-Wan didn't slouch or sprawl: never in public, and in private only when utterly relaxed. He met challenges with strength, never weakness.

Until last night. His master had displayed weakness – an utter and complete weariness that he had not bothered to hide.

The healers had told Anakin that broken bones could develop blood clots; that they could dissolve on their own or suddenly move into the brain and cause massive damage or death. From what Bant had said, the danger period was past, but illness did not keep to a schedule.

Obi-Wan's shielding had held, though it was weak and tattered and the padawan had seen and felt enough that he didn't think this was the explanation. It was something else, some concern and anxiety that he wouldn't share with his padawan. It could be pain, infection, a relapse – the only way to allay his fears was to pad to the doorway of his master's room and check on him.

Yet Obi-Wan slept peacefully enough, and the Force was not disturbed around him. Anakin began to relax, and when the third visit to his master's room had startled him with a mumbled, "go back to bed, Anakin, your anxiety is misplaced, I'm fine," he had relaxed even more. Obi-Wan had sounded sleepy, but amused.

Only the very fact that he couldn't understand why his master had been so quick to forgive him, so suddenly willing to accept his padawan's strength, preyed on his mind until the only way to relieve it was to call the healer's ward.

The duty healer seemed almost amused at the worried padawan, but agreed that it did no harm to reschedule Obi-Wan's appointment to that day and assure themselves that no harm had befallen the healing Jedi, that the day shift duty healer would make the arrangements.

The healers were all too aware that Obi-Wan Kenobi was as likely to admit, let alone show, weakness without good cause. Bant had told Anakin, as they sat in silent vigil over Obi-Wan in Skore Med Center that the Jedi's chart was coded: WOCIC, Worthy of Concern if Complains, meaning it had to be serious if the Jedi confessed such to the healers.

It was worth calling in him early.

Relieved at their reassurances that normal sleep meant the Jedi was not in imminent danger, he went for a leisurely morning meal in the dining hall before heading to the training salles for his training sessions. He would prefer to keep an eye on his master, but weak or not, Obi-Wan would be displeased if his padawan failed to keep his schedule.

Between several intense sessions, Anakin took a break and comm'd his master to ask how he was. From the momentary silence, Anakin could imagine his master's eyebrow arched in surprise, heard a chuckle in response.

"Awake and alert despite a fretful padawan who had to be told to go back to bed in the middle of the night to let his master get some sleep. I'm fine, Padawan, I told you I was weary."

"You were exhausted!" Anakin accused.

With a rueful sigh, Obi-Wan conceded the point. "Having one's own words thrown back at one is not easy. Perhaps I am getting too old to argue with you, Padawan. Speaking of which," he paused meaningfully, and Anakin winced, "our conversation will have to be postponed until later today. The healers have rescheduled my appointment and I'll be gone by the time you whip the masters – who's training you today? Oh - I'll be gone by the time the 'Chosen One's' rear has been whipped."

Anakin protested against that assessment of his skills and Obi-Wan just laughed. "I've been told to expect a comprehensive exam and tests that will take most of the day – if I pass with flying colors as I expect, since the main requirement is a heart that beats and lungs that breathe – they will release me to light duty and stop their infernal poking and prodding."

"Does that mean I get to stop looking after you?"

The warmth in his master's voice surprised him. "Indeed not. We will always look after each other, Padawan. For better or worse, we're a team. Now try to whittle down that group of twenty who can take you with one hand to eighteen. I have faith in you."

* * *

After that morning's conversation, Anakin had been cheerful. Regardless of what "conversation" Obi-Wan wanted to have with him, his master sounded well – almost better than well. Perhaps a brush with his own mortality, Jedi or not, had loosened him up and brought out an unsuspected inner warmth.

Not unsuspected, just long hidden, for thinking back, Anakin knew it had always been there underneath the reserved exterior. He had seen it easily displayed always, with Bant, Master Yoda, old friends. When Obi-Wan had introduced him to Dex Jettster, café owner and old friend, he had been wide-eyed to see his master enthusiastically accept and return the huge Basalik's hug as if hugging was his standard greeting.

And to be honest, he had experienced it himself when young; when sick or frustrated, his master had always been there with a warm blanket to warm his chilled bones, or a joke to break the mood.

He remembered his first bout of homesickness:_ crying on his bed and trying to stifle his sobs as he thought a Jedi was supposed to do. Obi-Wan had come to sit by his side, saying nothing until the flood of tears abated. It had not been long after the new knight and padawan had returned to the Temple._

"_Do you want to talk about it, Anakin?" The new knight still couldn't bring himself to call Anakin, "padawan." The word tripped over his tongue; his heart still thought the title his and the master one who was so recently one with the Force._

_He had only shook his head and cried harder. He felt a gentle hand descend on his back, rest there a bit uncertainly. _

"_I'm…I'm sorry, Master Obi-Wan," he had mumbled into his pillow. "A Jedi doesn't cry or show emotion."_

_The hand on his back stopped its gently rubbing, and he had been afraid he had disappointed his new master. He didn't want anyone but Qui-Gon as his master, but was learning to accept this young man who tried so hard. "Don't leave me, too, Master Obi-Wan." He had again burst into tears, and felt Obi-Wan hesitantly pull him into his arms. _

"_I won't leave you, Pa…padawan," the words had finally come. "It's okay…you're not supposed to let emotion control you, but as Qui-Gon often said…" The young Jedi's words had trailed off, and Anakin snuck a peek. Obi-Wan's eyes were half shut as if against terrible grief, and an escaping tear sparkled on a lash. "Qui-Gon said emotions were okay as long as you didn't let them control you, but you controlled them. He would tell you it's okay to cry in private, if you then let it go. So cry, my padawan, let it out and let it go."_

_He had turned then, and clung to Obi-Wan, burying his head in his shoulder as the young man's arms had come around him to hold him close. And as he cried, he felt Obi-Wan's own tears, and knew that both of them were finding comfort in each other._

Yet as the years went on, Obi-Wan began to avoid displaying his feelings as a means of controlling them, growing a shell as he grew a beard, and Anakin had come to think to think that his master was cold and unfeeling. And only now was he relearning what he had known, so many years ago.

That had been in the morning, when his concern for his master's health was anxious and fear battled anxiety; before the truth was revealed and the veil of deception slit by an innocent word.

* * *

While he waited for the healers to release his master, Anakin occupied his afternoon battling remotes, fighting newfound doubts and frustrations. He had dispatched them all, but he was not happy with how long it took to accomplish, or the painful shocks he had received. He rubbed his backside. He had let himself be distracted, thinking of his midday visit with the Chancellor.

Palpatine had shown even more signs of the strain he was under. The war was not going well; the Republic had just lost an important battle.

The Chancellor had not seemed to notice when Anakin had walked in. He had looked up, surprised, and rubbed bloodshot eyes. "Anakin? Oh, yes, young man, I'd forgotten you were coming. Come, sit."

Anakin knew Palpatine was tired when the man made no move to get up and greet him. His responsibilities weighed heavily on his shoulders this day; a burden the man bore willingly, but it was taking a toll on the man who had devoted his life to public service.

"I can come back, Chancellor," he said gently.

"No, no, sit my boy," Palpatine said. "I need a break from all this – distasteful news. We were unable to break the Separatists hold on – well, no matter, it's a tragic loss. As they all are, of course. If only…."

Anakin had sat; all quiet sympathy. Each loss was a stab to the Chancellor's noble heart. The man gave so much – how much longer would he be able to bear the burden?

"If only…?" he murmured softly.

The Chancellor looked at him and winced. "I'm sorry, my boy, I know you're needed here. But if you had been there – the Republic so needs you. Your master, too, of course. If I just had twenty more of you, Jedi so skilled and dedicated. Your abilities are so much greater than your colleagues. You're a one man army, our most potent weapon sitting idle – oh, I know my boy, I know your duty is here. It is unfortunate that Master Kenobi did not follow his own battle plan and ended up so injured. His foolish charge took two of our greatest assets out of the fight for our very survival."

"You know what happened?" Anakin was surprised.

"Oh, yes, I have seen the reports, and to go charging off so – well, carelessly. He could have been killed; almost was except for your quick thinking. The Republic, as always, is in your debt. It is too bad your Order does not recognize what I do – what an asset you are. Why they don't have you leading the entire war effort I do not know – they don't even see their way clear to acknowledging your power. I don't know why they doubt your abilities when it is so clear to my eyes, indeed, the very Republic you serve so valiantly."

The Chancellor was right. With his connection to the Force, he was the strongest Jedi in the Order, perhaps the most powerful, and he should be a knight – perhaps even a master with his power. The only reason he wasn't was that the Jedi Council refused to give him a chance to prove himself by taking the trials, and Anakin didn't think his master was pleading his case, either.

The Council debated his emotional control, his wisdom, his lack of caution when they should recognize his abilities. They were in a war, and they seemed to think they were in some kind of vacuum, or perhaps they were just trapped in the past.

"They hold you back for the pettiest of reasons, don't they? I wonder when your council stopped listening to the Force, and started listening to themselves instead? Or is it that they fear your power? Those who wield power are afraid of sharing it and thus losing it."

"That's not true, Chancellor!" Anakin disagreed automatically, though he often wondered himself if they did, indeed, fear him. They certainly had been reluctant to train him.

"Ah, well, I hope your Force guides them true. So much is at stake. One wonders just why your Master Kenobi does not stand up for you, but then, he does hold you back, doesn't he? I thought the Jedi admired ability and talent, but it seems they are not immune to jealousy, either. So, son, just how is your master doing now, really?"

Kindly eyes replaced the weary ones.

"You just saw him, sir." Anakin's surprise was obvious.

"Oh, physically he appeared reasonably healthy, but I sensed something was not right with him. I am quite adept at reading human body language, as well as a few other sentient species – comes in handy as a politician. I wondered if, well, he has some physical disability or weakness he hasn't told you about." The Chancellor turned a bland face to the young man, eyes gently inquiring.

"No, he would have told me. He would never lie to me. My master has never told an untruth in his entire life." Anakin was quite certain of that.

"For a Jedi, 'never' is quite an absolute word and I understand that Jedi do not deal in absolutes. Your Master Yoda seemed quite solicitous of your master; as I was leaving I

heard him ask if he had told you yet, so you see why I…" he shrugged and lifted a hand in a casual wave.

"Told me what?"

"I do not know, young man. I thought as his padawan, you knew…"

Anakin only stared, almost frantic with worry. The duty healer hadn't seemed concerned, more amused than anything. Still, they were giving his master a pretty comprehensive exam today. Was Obi-Wan _not_ getting better? He had seemed drained of life last evening, rubbing his head, speaking of forgiveness…like he was preparing himself for – for - .

"He's getting better, he is – he's not dying!" he stammered. "He would let me know."

The Chancellor hastened a gentle hand on his shoulder, squeezed. "Dying, my boy? I hardly think so. No, I sensed something being hidden from you, something they might not trust you with. Perhaps, perhaps they were discussing allowing you to finally take your trials and show your worthiness to be a knight."

Anakin shook his head. "Obi-Wan would have told me at night meal. He would not hold that back – he knows how much I want to prove myself."

"Prove yourself?" There was genuine horror in the man's voice. "After all you have done for them? For the Republic? Well, now. Then they are less wise than I thought."

Anakin merely shrugged, not knowing what to say.

"Ah, well. So, do tell me about your master's fight to regain his health. I understand you saved his life, and he has been recuperating fast, much faster than I would have expected for a man with his injuries."

"When I return, he should know if he is to be allowed to return to light duty, and I do not doubt it," Anakin said proudly. "He has been really pushing hard to get well, constantly exercising to the point of exhaustion. He doesn't even look like the same man that came back to the Temple so recently. Every day when I return from my, uh – he's let me have a break from everything – you should see some of the places I've been."

Palpatine smiled and leaned back in his chair. "That is wonderful news, Anakin. So your master hasn't needed you at his side? Or has Master Kenobi again shut you out, refusing to admit he needs you? Is he as blind as the rest of Jedi – not recognizing how they need you?"

"He wanted me to relax," Anakin protested. He fought off the feeling that perhaps it was true that his master didn't need him. Obi-Wan had said he did, but still, it was words. The Chancellor made him feel needed; his master never did until last night, and only spoke of need within the last few days.

"He said I had worried for far too long, and I deserved some time off. I did, too. Chancellor – it's tough, fighting all the time, even for me. I admit I get excited by battle, but the constant toil, the dying – there are so many times I just wish it would end. I know now how hard Obi-Wan fights not to get discouraged, how he struggles to remain compassionate amidst everything – it's hard to fight without an end in sight."

He was by now pacing, face creased with a frown.

Palpatine stood up and came to his side, laid a hand on his shoulder. "I, too, know what you mean of fighting despair, day after day. If the Senate only allowed me to conduct this war as it should be, I believe I could see an end to it. Then we could all rest. But for now – the Republic needs us. There can be no rest until the Republic is safe, and our own preferences must give way to that."

The Chancellor was right.

Obi-Wan wanted his padawan to enjoy himself while others were fighting and dying. Have a vacation from responsibilities – don't worry about the innocents for whom you fight, the Clones who die for them, the Chancellor who devoted every ounce of his being to saving the Republic.

Here he had been all this time, doing little for his master, nothing for the Republic and this devoted head of the government. How selfish he had been, wanting to spend time with his wife while others died while he played.

How selfish Obi-Wan had been, to keep Anakin near him to do nothing while the galaxy battled around them.

His master didn't care that every day the Republic's greatest war hero Anakin Skywalker was kept from battle was another day that other living beings fought, suffered and died.

The Force wanted him and guided him to help others, to save them. While he idled at his master's wish.

And so Anakin had returned to the Temple to take out his frustration and anger at the remotes. It didn't work; his loss of focus and the constant shocks only fed his emotions. He was bruised and stung, not at all calm and accepting. He would have something to say to his master when they had their conversation later. He burned off the rest of his energy by striding through the hallways with no clear destination in mind.

Perhaps he might intercept his master on his return from the healers and find out the prognosis.

And then he would have a word or two with his master about _responsibility, duty, and service._

* * *

The older initiates training classes were over, and Anakin threaded his way through the hallways. He barely spared the initiates a glance, though the initiates watched him in a bit of awe. The Hero with No Fear was among them, and his eyes were hard. He and his master were in the Temple; all knew of the nearly disastrous mission on Skore.

Neither had been seen much. Master Kenobi had been brought back half dead, according to rumor, his padawan at his side, though as the Jedi master healed he was often seen walking the Temple accompanied by one or more of his closest friends. No one knew if Master Kenobi would return to the war, or if his injuries would keep him a resident teaching master, and what that would mean for his padawan, no one dared speculate.

"Donal, how's your arm?" Anakin ignored the call that floated across a hall behind him. "That was a nasty burn, sorry I got you during lightsaber practice earlier."

"It'll be okay, J'nelle, I was up at the Healer's Ward getting it treated," Donal replied, waving off the other's concern nonchalantly as they paced together down the hallway. "Master Kenobi was up there, too."

"How's he doing?" J'nelle asked quickly, a concerned look on her face. "I was quite upset when we heard he was almost killed - I've always looked up to him as a kind of role model. I caught just a glimpse of him the other day as he was walking around with Master Garen; he seems to look okay now. They say he looked just awful when they brought him back here. Thank the Force he survived."

"He's looking pretty healthy - almost looks like himself – but still kind of thin and pale, still walking with a limp. I was getting that last burn treated up there when they first brought him in, and he doesn't look the same man – quite frankly, I wasn't all that sure he would recover - but while I was up there I overheard them say his eyesight hasn't come back."

"What do you mean– he's blind?" There was astonishment in her voice. "That's terrible. But he seems to get around so well, now that he's on his feet."

"So it seems," Donal said regretfully, "but, yes, he does seem to have adapted well. I'm not sure if anyone even realizes he can't see; even his own padawan. The healers hardly expected him to recover as fast as he has; he's being put back on light duty already. His request, I believe."

Upon hearing his master's name, Anakin had stopped to listen. He always enjoyed listening to Temple gossip, especially if it concerned him or his master. It pleased him to hear how his master was admired and looked up to, for such respect automatically extended to his padawan. It had helped ease Anakin's entrance into Jedi life years ago, for the knowledge that Obi-Wan Kenobi had both been knighted and had defeated a Sith in combat had been a feat worthy of great respect and admiration.

The fact that the new knight had then taken on as his padawan the unknown boy Anakin Skywalker had given the new boy a certain acceptance from the first.

Anakin, his back turned and down the hallway, froze, and a glazed look of pain and rage contorted his face at the last exchange. A master passed by, and at his look, stopped and searched the Force for clues to the sudden disturbance swirling in the area.

Sensing the unmistakable source, though uncertain of the reason for it, the Jedi comm'd Obi-Wan. With his still fragile health, he thought he should be warned of his padawan's sudden flare of fury.

On a nudge from the Force, the same Jedi comm'd Obi-Wan's friend Garen and suggested he might wish to intercept the young Jedi and calm him down before he inflicted his roiling emotions onto his master.

"By the Force!" Garen surged to his feet and left his conversation hanging in midair as he took off at a run. This was potentially going to be an ugly confrontation; his friend might need someone there to pick up the pieces after.

"I understand," Obi-Wan said calmly at the news, and sat down to await his padawan's arrival, but his thoughts were troubled. He rubbed his cheek and sat with his face cupped in his hands, seeking for calmness within the Force. He had waited too long; the consequences might prove devastating.

Anakin burst through the door; a thundercloud erupting into the space. Seeing Obi-Wan clearly awaiting his arrival, worry lines etching his face and regret written all over his features, did nothing to diminish Anakin's rage.

"You lied to me, Obi-Wan!" the younger Jedi shouted, slamming his hand on a table.

Obi-Wan never flinched, his voice never wavered. He would be the calm one; the rock standing steadily against the swirling currents of rage until the flood of emotion subsided. Anakin was angry; he needed his master's steadiness. Obi-Wan lifted his head from his hands; clenched his hands tightly in his lap and spoke quietly.

"I didn't tell you, no, Anakin, if that's what you mean. I was wrong not to tell you, but I didn't want you to know. Not at first."

"Why not?" The words were hissed, angry and staccato. Anakin glared at his master. "Why didn't you want me to know? I have a right to know. I'm your padawan – doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"I wanted to wait until I knew something definite, to spare you worry, for my eyesight might have returned without you ever knowing and I feared you were too burdened with your own problems. Reasons that seemed valid to me at the time. However, I realized my error in not speaking to you, to share my own worries and fears. I have been trying to speak to you about this over the last several days, and then, well, last night when I did try to talk to you…that didn't go well. This is what I planned to speak to you about today."

"You hid the truth from me – you lied to me!"

"No! I was silent, but I did not lie." The Jedi was rather shocked at the rage behind Anakin's words. He had expected him to be upset, but this angry?

"It's still a lie! Everyone else knows, but not me," Anakin accused. "I'm not good enough to know, or you didn't think I could handle it? Who was at your side all that time – me! Because I cared, that's why. I was so afraid of losing you; I wanted you to live so badly. I would have done anything to save you, to help you through everything but you – you never wanted my help. You have never needed me, have you? Even though I needed you to need me, as I need you, you only turned away from me."

Terribly hurt and angry at being deceived; Anakin spoke words chosen as weapons, to lash and flay like a whip. Obi-Wan needed to know how deeply his master's silence had hurt his padawan.

Yet through it all, his master sat quietly and accepted his padawan's grief and hurt without protest and without apparent pain, letting his padawan's anger batter and bruise him, bend but not break him under its onslaught, until such time as the storm's fury would lessen to leave him, as the trees of Aurolia following its violent storms, to remain still standing.

The depth of Anakin's hurt and betrayal was a shock to his master. Obi-Wan had wanted only to protect his padawan and had never dreamt just how badly Anakin would feel once he found out.

"Anakin, please – just listen, let me explain," Obi-Wan finally whispered, holding up a hand in silent protest, until he could breathe a silent sigh of relief as the firestorm of emotion slowly died back and mutated into an icy slush of cold despair.

"When were you going to tell me, Obi-Wan? When?" Anakin's voice shook. His pain was too much to bear alone, it shrieked and cursed and demanded that he who was responsible needed to share it – know how deeply his master's silence had hurt his padawan. And Obi-Wan opened himself to it, never once flinching.

"My padawan." Obi-Wan spoke softly. He had to make Anakin understand; he had kept silent for his sake. Not to deceive him, but to protect him, and that he had come to see how wrong he was. _Pure your motives may be, but harmful they may be also_, Yoda had said. Words alone would not reach Anakin. His padawan needed more; he needed everything his master could give him.

There could be no holding back.

Obi-Wan got to his feet and limped over to his padawan, pulled him into a hug, though Anakin stiffened against it. As he did, the Jedi dropped the last of his shields and opened the bond wide, accepting his padawan's pain in full and trying to communicate wordlessly even as he spoke; opened himself to all the grief and rage, let it fill him so that it could empty from his padawan, who had not deserved this hurt.

"When? When I had the courage. A lifetime ago, a day ago, the other side of this pain, when Yoda made me realize I needed you to help me face this, that I was wrong, when your master failed you. When we had our disagreement; you thought I wanted you to unburden yourself because I…I didn't know how to ask for your help. I was trying to tell you, then."

At least Anakin hadn't pulled away. He stood, carved as if from stone, another statue to grace the Temple's hallways.

"My first thought was that I wanted you to know, once you had seen that I was okay - that I could still function. Not when I was lying in a bed and far too weak to move, with both of us wondering what kind of life lay ahead for me, or if any at all. When I thought it would hurt you less to not know, so I kept my fears and doubts to myself."

Obi-Wan could see his words weren't reaching his padawan; the emotion clouding the bond was not dissipating or dissolving with his words and the apologies and acceptance of his padawan's pain he tried to send through the bond only swirled in emptiness.

"Then I had decided to speak to you once I knew for sure whether or not I would ever see again. Until then…I took comfort in the fact that you were content again, happy. And then, when I saw how wrong and unfair I was, I tried. I tried, Anakin, several times. I saw the healers today; they are not hopeful, but you have seen now that I can function – I will be okay. I only wanted…I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily. I was thinking of you."

Obi-Wan's voice was very soft, almost pleading for understanding. Anakin pulled away from Obi-Wan's embrace, turning away from the heart laid bare to him should he chose to look within.

"You hurt me more by keeping this a secret from me. You lied to me. You made a conscious decision to lie to me, to deceive me, as if I wasn't important enough to be trusted with your health, though 'the Chosen One,' – your padawan – is good enough to be trusted with your life!"

"Masters aren't supposed to lie to their padawans. Ever. You don't trust me; you've never trusted or wanted me, have you? And now I don't trust you – I'll never trust you again." His voice broke. "I thought you loved me…and I thought – once I loved you. But it was all built on lies, wasn't it?"

Hadn't the Chancellor as much as told him this? The man who told him nothing but the truth was not his master, but his friend. His master saw him only as a weapon, a Jedi to be molded and formed into a being of prophecy, his teaching only to forge the weapon rather than guide the student.

Obi-Wan had so little sense of duty that he put personal needs – his and his padawan's – before the needs of the Republic. He had no right to withhold information from his padawan. By doing so he was endangering the war effort, Palpatine's hard work – and Padme!

Even more hateful words poured out of him in a blazing torrent, a verbal river of lava erupting from a volcano suddenly unplugged. Hot rage surged through him, ripping away reason, taunting him with the years of deception, needing to inflict pain upon the one responsible for his own.

Until, finally, his words succeeded in striking the intended blow. The color drained out of Obi-Wan's face, leaving it pale and strained.

Anakin was all but on the verge of lashing out physically – his hand cocked back ready to deliver a blow to that lying mouth, that mouth that had once whispered comforting words to him, but the same mouth that had betrayed him by its silence. The mouth of a man who wavered on his feet, whose face showed unimaginable pain, yet offered forgiveness for his harsh words – and Anakin could no longer face the man in front of him.

He would not see! He would not allow himself to see a man wounded in more than body, but within his very heart from the look of it. How dare the man look so!

Anakin snarled within his mind. Obi-Wan _had - no - right _to look like that! Obi-Wan betrayed his padawan – Obi-Wan neither loved nor trusted his padawan. He would leave the man he once called master to face alone the demons he had unleashed onto them both.

The rage that boiled within him was not strong enough to overcome years of Jedi training in control to allow him to lash out physically as he wished, but it had taken command of his voice and thoughts and he allowed it free rein.

"Traitor!" he hissed. "I can never forgive your deception, your lies. I loved you, once, but you've killed it with your betrayal." Anakin turned on his heel and nearly ran from the room as the rage rose within him, consuming reason under its need for expression.

"Anakin, no…!" but Obi-Wan's shocked protests were ignored.


	26. I Have Again Failed Him

"Never forgive… never forgive…." the angry words reverberated in Obi-Wan's mind, each remembered syllable an icy claw that stabbed deep into his heart and dripped shards of ice in his veins to numb thought. **"**Your deception… your lies...I loved you, once…."

Love. It was something he had found it more than once. Love for a father, love for a woman, and love for a brother.

Love. It was a weapon to inflict pain, for a Jedi was forbidden to love: he had dared thrice, and thrice he had had it taken from him. For to be a Jedi was to be denied love.

Love. It was something that would always be denied him: should he seek it out, it would wither and die. Should he not – it would be he that would wither and die for no matter how he tried to deny it – as his lungs needed air, his heart needed love, both to give and receive.

Love. It was what fed compassion and nurtured the Force within him.

And love was again denied him, for he had again dared, and he had wounded it. In time, again, he would recover, but for now…love was again pain and again taken from him.

The Jedi's shoulders slumped and his head drooped, one hand stretched out as if to pull his padawan back. He remained in that posture; protests beating in his mind like a bird trying frantically to find escape from a trap. Anakin's words had frozen him into shocked immobility; the rage and pain still echoing through the bond was overwhelming.

His pain only echoed that of his padawan – Obi-Wan was hurt, but even more than hurt, he was ashamed. Ashamed of what he'd done to his padawan to so upset him.

_I wronged him…I hurt my padawan and I never meant to…it's my fault for not speaking to him sooner. Of course he's upset…they all saw that, warned me – how could I not see that?_

Garen, just arriving on a dead run, was nearly knocked aside as Anakin rushed blindly by. He made a grab at Anakin's arm, but the young Jedi merely pulled free and the anger and tears on his face worried him. If Anakin looked like this…_oh, dear Force, Obi-Wan_!

Half afraid of what he'd find, he entered the room hesitantly, and paused when he saw Obi-Wan, only this was an Obi-Wan he had never seen before. His old friend looked broken and sad, uncertain: he slowly lowered his outstretched hand and walked heavily back to his seat with that hand pressed over his heart, to sink into it and cup his chin into his other hand.

Staring blindly at nothing, outwardly impassive, but there was an overwhelming sense of loss surrounding the Jedi.

"Obi-Wan?" Garen said tentatively. The Jedi did not respond. "Obi-Wan, what happened? Are you okay? I saw Anakin storm out of here - you told him, didn't you? Or did he find out from someone else?"

There was no response, and Garen wondered if Obi-Wan even heard him; even knew if he was there. He couldn't remember ever seeing his friend so unsettled before. Obi-Wan was always the rock, the one steadying the others, the calm in the center of any storm and Garen stood in silent sympathy, wondering what to do – what to say.

"Obi-Wan?" His soft hiss, the obvious concern, finally penetrated the stunned mind of his friend, for the Jedi slowly seemed to realize that he was not alone. A hand reached out blindly, pawed the air, and Garen hurried to his side and clasped the trembling hand.

Obi-Wan merely nodded and sighed as fingers closed around his. He didn't bother to hide his distress; it was too late for that.

It was – too late – for many things.

"He found out and came to confront me. Garen, I never meant…I made a terrible mistake by not telling him – it's all my fault. He is very hurt that I didn't tell him myself. I need – I need to find him, talk to him - tell him…."

Garen tightened his grip on the hand that had reached out to him and laid his other hand on his friend's shoulder to calm the upset Jedi. Obi-Wan sounded all but drained of life.

"You know he won't listen to you, right now. You'll have to give him time, Obi-Wan."

"I know." It was a whisper. "Garen, please, I want to go to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. To just - sit. Will you come with me?"

"Of course, my friend."

The two friends walked through the Temple hallways. Obi-Wan led the way unerringly, only occasionally pausing, only once needing Garen to touch his shoulder and indicate the way. Obi-Wan sank onto a bench and sighed with relief. The soft tinkle and gurgle of the fountains helped to soothe his troubled thoughts, its rhythms bringing a semblance of calm, washing away the worst of the numbness but not the pain. He was having trouble finding his calm center and serenity seemed something long fled and unattainable.

The two friends sat in silence for a long while, until Obi-Wan suddenly spoke. The fingers of one hand wandered aimlessly over his chin, betraying his unhappiness.

"Anakin was very upset. I handled this all wrong."

"You tried to spare him pain," his friend said gently. "You tried to make this easy on him, but there really was no way to make it easy."

"I should have told him sooner. Everyone warned me; I didn't want to listen." Obi-Wan's tone was very bleak; the words seemed torn out of him.

"You wanted him to see you able to function, blind or not, did you not? That was pretty noble of you. He might not have taken it any easier if you had told him right away."

"I…I don't know," Obi-Wan shook his head slowly. "He no longer trusts me. Garen, it hurts. I hurt him, my padawan and I let him down. I don't - I don't think he'll ever forgive me. I don't know if I can - forgive myself for what I've done to him."

Garen had never heard his friend so upset, obviously fumbling for self-control. Obi-Wan was hurting as no physical wound had ever hurt him, hurting inside as much as he had when he had returned from Naboo with half-dead eyes and a new padawan in tow.

Then, Anakin had been a source of strength to Obi-Wan in his sorrow. Now, he was the source of the sorrow that Obi-Wan was unable to hide from those whom had eyes to see. His pain fairly radiated through the Force, though betrayed only by a shaking hand, somber face and unsteady voice.

Garen gentled his voice, as Bant would do were she here. Always, when Obi-Wan was lost in guilt and pain over a badly handled situation, it took only a reminder from his friends to look at the situation from another angle and let go of his guilt; to move forward. Over the years, Obi-Wan had learned to balance his mind with his heart, but now, it seemed, he had forgotten how. He needed that help, again.

Garen meant to help him, and he sensed that this time he wouldn't have to argue with his friend. Obi-Wan was all but admitting he needed help, reaching out for it instead of denying his need.

"Then shame on him. It's not very Jedi-like not to forgive, for one thing – and don't you start shaking your head at me, Obi-Wan. For another thing, you're the one who all but died; you're the one facing blindness. No matter how much any of us try to help, you're the one who had to deal with it as you thought best. How dare he get mad at you! Here you sit, still recovering, and you're worrying about Anakin's reaction! Stars above, Obi-Wan, start worrying about yourself for a change, if you have to worry. You're not even recovered yet."

"Garen," Obi-Wan protested, his face flushing under his friend's words, one hand held up in front of him to quiet his fellow Jedi down. "Until you've had a padawan of your own, you don't understand. A master always worries about his apprentice, and what kind of an example he or she is setting. No matter my reasons, I let Anakin down – it would have been better if I had just…Garen, I should have just let go…."

At Obi-Wan's unfinished thought, Garen trembled, shocked at the depth of pain underlying them, but decided to face it head on. Brutal honesty should shock some sense into his friend. Hating every word he spoke, he flung them at the despairing man.

"Should have died and abandoned us all? Taught Anakin to give up when the going gets tough? Left us to grieve for you, knowing that you didn't care enough for us to live?"

It worked. Obi-Wan's head flashed up, eyes sparking but no longer numb and glazed.

"I was already dead, Garen, so they told me. Perhaps I defied the will of the Force in coming back. Perhaps this is my…!" Obi-Wan stopped mid-sentence and groaned. Burying his head in his hands he shook his head wearily. "Force be blessed, I've totally lost control of my emotions, haven't I?"

"Yes," Garen said simply, and lightly punched Obi-Wan in the shoulder. The two sat quietly for a while, a comfortable silence between them. Obi-Wan finally sighed and lifted his head.

"I thought – Garen, we really connected, more than we ever had, when I was barely conscious back there on Skore. I know Anakin truly knew the strength of our bond, the deep connection between us – he had to have known. You cannot hide or falsify that through the bond. So why did he take this so hard? Could it be that he has never trusted me, even as close as we'd become?"

That Obi-Wan could even ask such a question, Garen found disturbing. He had to be mistaken; something else had triggered Anakin's words.

"Anakin should not have spoken as he did to you, my friend. He was out of line."

"He was upset and spoke the truth as he felt it." Obi-Wan remembered the bitter despair, even the rage. He had done his best to open himself to all of Anakin's pain, and the aftereffects still shook him. Such uncontrolled passion was something foreign to him. He had learned to let emotion wash over him and release into the Force years ago; he had not known such depths of emotion since seeing Qui-Gon cut down in front of him.

Garen didn't know how to reach his friend; his words of comfort weren't reaching Obi-Wan. He needed to help him find a way to move on, to resolve the problem, not drown in its pain.

"You're much too hard on yourself, you know. After all, you and Qui-Gon got through your ups and downs okay – you made your peace before his death. Even though no one spoke of it, I know all about Qui-Gon trying to put you up for the Trials before the Council so that he could take Anakin on as his new apprentice. I know how upset with him you were that Qui-Gon tried to get rid of you after all those years together for an unknown boy he barely knew. You never said anything to us, but I could see the strain between you even when you returned to Naboo."

Obi-Wan paled as Garen probed at a long buried memory that he would prefer remained buried.

"That was entirely different. I soon came to realize that Qui-Gon had meant no disrespect to me, only that he had such faith in Anakin. It was I who was in error, and thank the Force I apologized to him before he was killed."

"So you two made up." It was a statement, not a question. Garen wasn't going to squeeze old wounds, but he still thought Qui-Gon had treated his long-time apprentice with little regard for his feelings. He had known that the two had made up before the master's death. He hadn't known that Obi-Wan had been the one to initiate peace between them; his friend had spoken little of those days.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes."

"So, you and Anakin will make up, too. Give him time to think." He tried a grin; remembered Obi-Wan wouldn't see it and might not appreciate it if he had. "We both know he can be rather volatile. His mind will catch up with his emotions in a while and he'll be begging for your forgiveness. You'll make up like you did with Qui-Gon."

This time Obi-Wan shook his head. Garen didn't understand the depths of his padawan's grief and rage. This was no mere passing emotional storm, one soon forgotten.

"This is different, Garen, he's different. Qui-Gon and I, we had a lot of history. When I thought he was rejecting me in favor of Anakin…I remembered that time years before when I was angry at Bant and accused her of trying to replace me as his padawan. My harsh words hurt her deeply. That rift was all mine and mine to heal. I was cruel, but I didn't betray her. She offered her forgiveness even before I had a chance to ask for it. I was angry with Qui-Gon and upset with everything and everyone, but I never once felt betrayed other than by my own ill-considered and well-meant passions."

It had been a long time since Obi-Wan had forced himself to look back on events he would just as soon leave in his past. He had dealt with them and laid them to rest, or so he had thought, years ago.

"I was terribly hurt and, yes, I'm afraid even angry, when Qui-Gon spoke up for Anakin before the Council. He never meant to push me aside, just push me forward to make my spot vacant for Anakin sooner than any of us expected, and I was even more hurt when I spoke up in support of Qui-Gon's declaration that I was ready for the Trials, and Master Yoda demanded what I knew of being ready. Betrayal, though - no. Never that."

"But with Anakin," Obi-Wan shook his head and rubbed his temple against the headache he could feel building there, "he does feel betrayed by what he thinks is my lack of trust in him. Angry, hurt of course, but also betrayed. This…I don't know how to heal this. How does one heal one's betrayal?"

"You really are one stubborn Jedi," Garen said with a hint of amusement and dismay both. "I'm sure he'll come to his senses eventually, and you two will make up."

"No, Garen. He's silenced the bond. You weren't there...didn't see him, feel the pain I caused him. How could I have done that to him?"

And to those quietly anguished words, Garen had no reply.

* * *

Anakin strode angrily away from Obi-Wan after confronting him with his knowledge, turning his back on Obi-Wan's outstretched hand, full of simmering rage and resentment, as well as a touch of shame. How dare Obi-Wan try to comfort him in the face of his betrayal, or ask for forgiveness? The pain in his face was only a façade, meant to break down Anakin's anger. 

He didn't even notice that he brushed against someone as he fled his quarters. His rage simmered within him, his blood boiled with the pain of Obi-Wan's betrayal. Healer Eerin; she would comfort him with her soft words and understanding look. She would know the depths of his betrayal. Had she not, too, been once betrayed by his master? She had found forgiveness; he never would.

Luckily, the healer was in and available when he arrived at the Healer's ward. With one look at this tense jaw and drawn eyebrows, she hurried him away from the reception area.

"What's the matter, Anakin?" the healer asked, once they'd moved into a private area.

The young Jedi's words burst out of him, seeking release. Bant was kind. She would sympathize with him and sooth his hurt feelings.

"Obi-Wan can't see. He lied to me, Bant!" The young Jedi paced back and forth, his words bursting from him.

Only a slow blink of Bant's eyes revealed her sudden understanding. Would she be able to defuse Anakin's anger before he spoke angry words to Obi-Wan? The young Jedi was upset enough that both men might end up speaking words that could never be taken back – words they would later regret.

She laid a gentle hand on his arm, but the young man only shook it off. "He told me he didn't want me to know. He didn't trust me with the truth, Bant, he lied to me – his padawan!"

He would have given his all to save his master, bloodied and shattered on that awful planet, and was repaid with only treachery and deceit. The icy rage within him crumbled as the heat of simmering betrayal found fracture lines and rose within him, ice turning to a flare of smoldering anger.

Something in his clipped voice and hard eyes scared Bant, but she didn't falter. Obi-Wan might need her, but right now his padawan was in front of her and she would help him face the truth, not the truth he thought revealed to him. Obi-Wan would want her to help Anakin; she would have to trust in Obi-Wan's strength until she could go to him.

Avoiding the urge to back away from Anakin, she faced him steadily, trying to break through the hard shell of despair and rage that surrounded the young man with her words.

"He didn't reveal the truth, but he didn't lie to you, Anakin. He's been trying to talk to you; he's told me. He was determined to tell you today, in fact. He was silent, not lying."

"That's your point of view! A secret unrevealed is still a lie," he muttered bitterly.

"And have you none of your own? Anakin, I know there's something you're keeping hidden, and Obi-Wan knows it, too. Are you lying to us, or just not revealing something you don't wish us to know?" Anakin stared at her, stricken, though managing to hide any expression; cocking his head at her like he had no idea what she was talking about. Bant didn't back down.

"No, I don't know what it is. It's not my place to ask. It's his. But he doesn't. He's waited for you to tell him. It must hurt him, thinking you don't trust him enough to share something that's important to you with him. But he won't ask. He waits for you to tell him, when you're ready. He hopes someday you will. But we both know you won't ever tell him, right?"

"I have no secrets, Bant." He sounded convincing, even to himself. But he knew better.

Bant was right: he would never tell Obi-Wan. Not unless he was forced to. His marriage and the murders his rage drove him to were his secrets. If his master knew of his conscious violation of the Code, he would be disappointed in him. He would probably stop short of being angry with him. Not even that would be enough to make Obi-Wan mad enough to lose his calm Jedi demeanor.

More than anything, Anakin could not stand the thought of his being a disappointment to Obi-Wan - not just a Jedi, but a man he held in high enough esteem to never wish to let down. He would rather incur his master's wrath, than lose his trust.

He repeated the word to himself. _Trust_. He had worried about losing his master's trust, when he should have known he had never had it. _The boy is dangerous_: he remembered Obi-Wan's words to Qui-Gon, when they had left Coruscant to free Naboo. He had been nine, and the Council had refused to accept him for Jedi training. They had not trusted him, either. They still didn't, but he had thought his master had learned to.

He was furious with his recognition that Obi-Wan didn't trust him; had never trusted him.

Their relationship meant nothing without trust. It had all been built on lies.

He had given obedience and friendship to one who deserved neither.

Almost as if reading his mind, Bant reiterated, "He did say he was going to tell you today, after seeing the healers. His not telling you had nothing to do with trust. He loves you, and he was trying to protect you."

"By lying?"

"By not telling you until he thought it would be easier on you. Don't you think he might have preferred facing this with you, rather than without – so you could have been there for him as he learned to accept his blindness? It hasn't been easy for him, I know, though he would not confide in any of us. But he chose to face it alone, to spare you. Whether or not he should have made that choice, he made it for you! You! Not for himself! If you can't see that, Anakin Skywalker, you are the blind one."

"He doesn't trust me," Anakin's protests were fading, but he couldn't shake his anger. It boiled within him, overriding reason, demanding retribution and not willing to hear.

"He loves you, so he tried to protect you from the truth for as long as he could," Bant corrected. "He was so pleased to see you happy once you stopped worrying about him. He didn't want to interfere with that. Can't you love him enough - trust him enough - to know he would never willingly inflict the slightest bit of pain on you?"

Anakin flushed, but he just couldn't let go of his feelings of betrayal, though part of him recognized the truth of her words. His heart just couldn't accept it; to accept it would mean that he had let his master down when Obi-Wan needed him most - the worst betrayal of all.

He had a flashback of how he had left Obi-Wan: staring sightlessly after him with hand outstretched, the hurt obvious, but guilt as well. Obi-Wan felt guilty that Anakin was hurt – guilty, because he cared about Anakin's feelings. He remembered the hug that he had pulled away from, denying the contact, when his master tried to bridge the gulf opening between them.

As if recognizing his softening and the beginnings of his own guilt, his inner rage built up, demolishing his momentary weakness. Had not Chancellor Palpatine himself seen how Obi-Wan didn't trust him, held him back, and refused to speak on his behalf? It had to be true, if such lack of trust was obvious even outside of the Order itself.

His rage beat in his ears – how dare his master put him in this position, how dare he make Anakin feel badly over his outburst, how dare Obi-Wan try to spare him only to have Anakin throw angry words in return. Between rage, grief, and horror he stood shaken until the red haze of unleashed anger obliterated everything else.

"He never wanted me, never," he burst out and fled. Bant stood staring after him, shaking her head worriedly. Two upset Jedi in the Temple, and she didn't think she could console either one.


	27. Shattered: The Truth Shall Tear You Asun

How could Anakin be so dense? Thinking Obi-Wan didn't want him – after all these years how could he doubt it? Anyone with eyes to see could see what Obi-Wan kept well hidden and guarded within his heart – the crinkle of his eyes when he smiled, the nod of the head in approval, or the hand clapped on the back. Her friend was far from open with his feelings, but the depths of his emotions went far deeper than many Jedi who more openly displayed them.

_I tried, Obi, I tried to reach him_.

Then a new fear pierced Bant's heart. Anakin was far beyond upset; Anakin was lost in pain and rage, dangerously near to dark side emotions and he had just confronted his master. What pain was Obi-Wan in?

Obi-Wan will be okay, Bant tried to tell herself. _But he's not well!_ A little voice whispered. Obi-Wan will release his emotions to the Force and deal with Anakin later. _But Obi-Wan is not recovered! _

Obi-Wan was her friend, and Bant wasn't sure how well her friend would be dealing with Anakin's accusations. Bant knew the pain of his padawan's words had to have stabbed deep. She hadn't been able to calm the padawan down but perhaps she could help the master. Even if the Jedi was able to find his calm center, he had to be hurting inside. She knew all too well the soft heart he kept hidden and under his control. He would try to hide his pain even from himself.

She needed to be with him, even if only to reassure herself.

"In a hurry you are," Master Yoda observed calmly as Bant hurried across a cross corridor in the Temple and narrowly missed the diminutive Jedi master.

"I thought - I thought I'd go see Obi-Wan," Bant faltered as she stopped and bowed. The little Jedi master looked at her calmly, blinking his great eyes and leaning on his ever-present stick, waiting patiently for her to continue.

"Young Skywalker has found out?" he prompted when she didn't respond. He sensed her distress had nothing to do with Obi-Wan's health – it was personal, not professional.

"Yes, and he confronted Obi-Wan before he came to me. He's very upset and thinks Obi-Wan doesn't trust him - worse, that he never wanted him as a padawan at all. He feels betrayed. Somehow I just know Obi-Wan blames himself for Anakin's rage, and is probably in need of a friend right now."

"Young Skywalker upset, hmm, surprises me not," Yoda muttered, nodding his head. "Accuse Obi-Wan of not trusting or not wanting him, know better he should. Agree, I do, that Obi-Wan will be upset. Come with you, I will."

"But - Master Yoda," Bant blurted out in surprise. He just blinked at her.

"Know, you do, that a friend of Obi-Wan's I am," he said mildly. "Know I also that deep feelings he has, though so well controlled we often forget he has them. Still not healed, he is, find it difficult to release his feelings he might. Need his friends, he will. Remember the comfort, I do, he offered Qui-Gon many times, years back. Well you can tell what one being needs, by what he offers others."

He remembered how Obi-Wan had silently followed his master around, trying to assuage Qui-Gon's grief at the death of their fellow Jedi, Tahl, bringing him tea in the early morning hours when Qui-Gon couldn't sleep and would wander the silent halls of the Temple. The young Obi-Wan had not had the words to comfort his master, and even if he had, they wouldn't have been heard by the mourning man. Even Yoda had been unable to lessen his grief.

All Obi-Wan knew to offer had been his gentleness and compassion. Yoda had known then that Obi-Wan would grow into the fine Jedi he had long suspected he would be. As Qui-Gon's grief had lessened, he, too, had come to appreciate his padawan's care and concern on his behalf. His gratitude and pride in his padawan had been plain to see.

All of this Yoda reflected on, and how Anakin had been unwilling or unable to pick up on Obi-Wan's own grief at the death of Jedi Siri Tachi. When Obi-Wan needed comfort, it was usually not his padawan who offered it. It was his friends, and Yoda himself.

The two Jedi checked Obi-Wan's quarters, but he wasn't there. With just a glance exchanged between them, they headed for the Room of a Thousand Fountains where they saw Obi-Wan and Garen sitting on a bench. Obi-Wan sat with his head in one hand, despair in every line of his body. Garen's hand was on Obi-Wan's shoulder, consoling his friend.

"Hurting deeply he is," Yoda observed quietly. "Right we are to come."

Both Garen and Obi-Wan looked up as Bant and Yoda joined them.

"How feel you, young one?" Yoda asked quietly, standing before him and wise eyes blinking solemnly.

Despite his distress, Obi-Wan forced a chuckle. "So it seems everyone knows by now that Anakin has found out and he feels I've betrayed his trust. Perhaps I have. He is very hurt, and it's all my fault. I've let him down."

"Nonsense!" Yoda snorted. Obi-Wan jerked with surprise at hearing Yoda's calm outburst. Bant sat down on Obi-Wan's other side and touched his hand where it lay clenched on his leg.

"A decision you made, for reasons you thought good and valid. Agree, some of us may not, perhaps, but a decision made to spare your padawan pain. Tried to tell him, you did, hmm?"

"I…tried," Obi-Wan responded slowly. "But he – was too hurt to listen to me, or try to understand. I fear I have lost his trust forever." Bant leaned her head against Obi-Wan's shoulder in silent comfort, content to let Yoda do any speaking. On Obi-Wan's other side, Garen was watching the Jedi's face. His eyes slid to hers, and he nodded in silent agreement; Yoda's words seemed to be easing his despair. The old Jedi knew how to reach Obi-Wan, perhaps even better than they.

"Trust can be rebuilt, stronger than ever, know this you should," Yoda reproached him, but gently, watching impassively as a spasm of pain from an old memory flashed through Obi-Wan's mind - that of his master, Qui-Gon Jinn and he rebuilding their relationship and trust after Obi-Wan's misguided but honorable brief departure from the Jedi Order at age thirteen.

Old habits made Obi-Wan close his eyes against the memory, and he half lifted a hand to protest. "We were both willing to try, that's why. Qui-Gon came to realize my actions were never a betrayal of him, just an unwise and hasty decision of a boy who allowed himself to get emotionally caught up in others' lives. All that…just because I wanted to help – and I almost ruined everything."

"But rebuilt it was, his trust. So too with your padawan, it can be. Worth an attempt, is it not? Perfect decisions no being makes, even Jedi. Realize this, Anakin will. Help him, you must and will. Understand this he will, in time." Yoda said gently as he turned to leave. "Time, Obi-Wan, give him time. On your own health, concentrate for now. When time it is, need your strength you will, to deal with your apprentice."

As Yoda left the Room of a Thousand Fountains, he ran into Mace Windu, striding down the hallway with grim eyes. He was clearly concerned. He fell into step with Yoda.

"I think Skywalker knows about Obi-Wan's blindness," he stated. "I just hope he has sense enough to think before he reacts. Obi-Wan doesn't need that boy railing at him right now. He's still too ill, in my mind."

"Know, he does. Confront Obi-Wan already he has."

"Oh, dear Stars above! How's Obi-Wan dealing with it? Who came out worse this time?"

"Both of them," Yoda said gravely. "Left Obi-Wan I did, with Garen Muln and Bant Eerin. Feels guilty, he does, for not telling his apprentice before he found out by accident. Feels betrayed, young Skywalker does, according to Healer Eerin. Forced to an issue it is; watch we must."

"Give them time to resolve it themselves?" Mace pondered. "Yes, with Obi-Wan still not recovered completely, it will do no harm to let both of them brood for a while, before we have to remind them they're Jedi and to resolve this quickly. We should have made Obi-Wan speak to him, but he was determined to wait."

"Persuaded him I had, several attempts went awry. What is done is done. Certain I am that Obi-Wan will deal with it in short order. Much practice he has had, I fear, in such matters. He will find calm though absent now from him it is. Young Anakin, still much to learn he has. Give him time we should, time to be the Jedi he thinks he is."

"Until then?"

"We do nothing, unless our counsel either seeks."

* * *

Anakin was too angry and hurt to do more than flee the Temple, his destination unknown.

Out there. Away.

Anywhere, but where the twisted lies of betrayal lay, the false words shackling him to a reality that never was and trust was only a commodity to be twisted and used to manipulate.

_Obi-Wan lied to me! He deceived me! He doesn't trust me!_

Underneath all that was the simple pain of knowing that Obi-Wan had never loved him. He could forgive the other, in time, but he could never forgive the pretense of caring: the profane coils of deception that were allowed to pollute the bond and deceive Anakin into believing that his master actually _cared_.

Behind those shields had always lain the hidden truth, the black heart of deception. Obi-Wan had always resented him, from that very moment when Qui-Gon offered before the Council to take Anakin as his padawan and in so doing, cast off his apprentice of many years. Oh, the cauldron of resentment had been allowed to quietly simmer, a skim of caring hiding the bubbling depths, but now the pot had been stirred and the inner depths finally revealed.

His true friend, the Chancellor, had glimpsed this, had tried to warn him of it, but he would not listen. He had bought the deception and the lies because he did not wish to know otherwise. He wanted to believe so badly that he had deceived himself into seeing what had never been there from the beginning. He had thought the bond was truth, despite harsh words and rebukes, but his master's actions and words spoke truer words.

The bond! A bond not of trust or of partnership, nor of friendship, but a chain to hold the slave to its master, disguised in silken layers of pretend friendship. The bond: only a thing of treachery. He had been a slave to it long enough. Never again, a slave, to anyone: Anakin wrenched at it, but it wouldn't disappear, not so easily.

He tried to sever it and wavered, dizzy with pain, washed by waves of agony as tendrils of connection were wrenched from screaming cells and nerves and he had to let go, to breathe. If the bond could not be severed, it could be otherwise silenced; he clamped down on it and winced at the pain, less this time, as a tourniquet to prevent the slow bleeding of self through the unwanted conduit. He hoped Obi-Wan felt the same pain.

It seemed not even betrayal could dissolve the bond.

Before the tourniquet squeezed the connection barren, he felt his master reach out to him, reaching out despite the pain ricocheting through his mind. _Anakin! Forgive me!_ The mind call was laden with pain and guilt, but no shame. Obi-Wan hung on tenaciously, calling to his padawan though his brain begged for an end to the pain.

Let Obi-Wan suffer!

He slammed his shields down before Obi-Wan could connect to him, not caring how that came through the bond. He was done with it, and his master was no longer his concern.

He wanted numbness, to deaden the pain. He couldn't console himself in Padme's arms, for the Senate was in session and he could hardly storm in there demanding access to his wife. He headed for a lower level tavern in another sector and quite rationally decided to become drunk.

He sat there all afternoon, downing drink after drink and feeling none of them. He scowled at his reflection. His was a famous face, one that showed up almost daily on the Holonet, yet here he was anonymous. When a fight broke out behind him, he ignored it. Let someone else break it up. Jedi weren't peacekeepers any more, they were soldiers. Blind fools, and soldiers.

Only a vague sense that Padme would be ashamed if a story hit the Holonet that a Jedi refused to stop a fight, that that self same Jedi merely hunched morosely over a constantly refilled glass, made him wrap his cloak around himself more carefully to hide the lightsaber at his belt. Padme would know it was him.

Anakin was nothing more than any man drinking his sorrows away at a seedy bar.

Despite his best efforts to overrule his instincts, his body fell back on its Jedi training to purge the effects of the alcohol, to leave him just as sober as when he started.

* * *

When Anakin first attempted to wrench the bond free, Obi-Wan had just returned from the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Bant and Garen had accompanied him to his quarters and were no doubt conversing about him in the other room, Obi-Wan thought wearily. They were determined to offer him comfort if by no other means than their presence, especially as Garen was leaving in a few days.

Obi-Wan was drained, physically, mentally and emotionally. A tight band of tension refused to be rubbed out with a hand at his temple and he accepted it, as he had accepted his apprentice's pain – something he had earned with his silence. It was but a fraction of the pain Anakin had felt, and what he could take from his padawan and bear himself, he would. He would bear any burden for his padawan, were he able, but burdens had a tendency to remain on the shoulders of the one who first knew them

When Garen offered a hand, he had accepted its offer for the trip back to his quarters, feeling old and weary, and not ashamed to lean on his friends. He had learned that lesson well, though too late. He had been only too happy to let his friends guide him to his bed, remove his boots and make him rest. They would wait for him, they said gently, and would be there when he woke with some hot broth and tea. Treating him like he was sick, but this was not a sickness of the body, but of his heart and it hurt more than he had thought possible. He couldn't release it, no matter how hard he tried. Not yet. Not now.

He had failed Anakin. Yet again.

He should have known that Anakin would not take lightly finding out something after others had, but the risk had seemed worthwhile at the time. His padawan's joy and happiness had fueled his master's recovery as much as sleep, time, and medicine had.

Anakin was happy, for the first time in months.

Obi-Wan had risked it all, for Anakin's sake, spun the wheel, and lost – everything.

The wrench at his mind pulled an agonized moan from him before he even knew what was happening. The bond – Anakin was trying to sever the bond, and Obi-Wan fought it, reaching out to his padawan despite the ripping of his mind. _Anakin_, he cried, as his hands clutched his head, trying to keep it from shattering into a thousand pieces of pulsing agony. _Anakin! _

If Anakin was successful, both of them would be incapacitated for quite some time. Unnatural dissolutions of the bond were dangerous to both parties.

_I'm sorry, please, talk to me_, he gritted his teeth as he tried to reach his padawan. _Forgive me?_

Another moan was torn from his throat as Anakin clamped down on the bond, and his mind reverberated with the slamming of the shields and he collapsed pale and sweating, shaking under the assault within his mind as he huddled deep within his bed.

"What is it, Obi-Wan?" Bant was at his side, pulling his hands from his face, he could feel her touch against his mind as she probed him. "What's hurting you?"

"The bond," he tried to explain, rubbing his temples when Bant let his hands go. "Anakin tried to break it. Hurts….oh, Force, that hurts." His ragged breathing was steadying out now, and he could feel the perspiration on his face. He put his hand to his face and found that some of the moisture was tears.

A cool cloth was pressed against his face. Bant hadn't left his side, so he knew Garen had brought it. He could feel Garen's other hand resting on his shoulder in silent sympathy.

"Thanks," he mumbled. "Oh, Force, what have I done? Why didn't I listen to everyone?"

When Bant's arms came around him, he accepted the hug and fell into it with an all but silent moan and let her hold him tight. His friends were there, and he needed them.

This time he didn't hesitate at all at accepting their comfort.


	28. A Jedi Feels No Pain

It took all of Anakin's shredded self-control to pace angrily around the Chancellor's outer office as the receptionist checked that Palpatine was available. The Jedi would not barge in on the savior of the Republic – this man, at least, deserved his respect and every courtesy.

Palpatine looked up as Anakin strode in, face scowling and tension in every line of his body. He quickly got to his feet, alarm in his eyes, and reached Anakin in two long strides.

"My boy, what is it? Are you ill? Master Kenobi, is he – ?"

"You were right, Chancellor. My master doesn't trust me. He has tethered me to him with lies. How did you see what I could not?"

Anakin was heartened to see that Palpatine looked shocked, a pained expression of understanding on his face.

"But what has happened to make you believe this? How has he misled you?"

"He's blind, Chancellor, and chose to hide the truth from me." His words were bitter. Palpatine nodded slowly, as if now understanding the carefully concealed secret. "I have been stuck here while the war rages on, for no reason at all – my master has not needed me at his side and yet has refused me leave to do what I can to save the Republic. Am I not powerful – can I not be allowed to do what I was born to do – save others? I can bring an end to this war – bring you peace – and they do not give me leave. Who am I, but a mere padawan learner who has to cool his heels because I have not been allowed to take the Trials and become the knight I should be by now."

"My dear boy, I'm so sorry…if I had known, I would have spoken to the Council. I wonder how long they knew…or if Master Kenobi hid his condition from them as well. I would hope the esteemed Jedi Council would not willingly conceal the truth from you, or allowed you to idle when you are so needed by our citizens."

"The deception is surely all my master's, Chancellor. I see now that all his rebukes and criticisms must be born from jealousy – he knows I surpass him in power, you know how he's held me back – he's resented me since Master Qui-Gon wished to take me as his padawan while my master was yet apprenticed to him. He only trained me at his master's dying wish, not from any desire of his own."

_I _loved _him, and I have been only a duty to him. I would have given my life for him, and he repays me with deceit and soft words._

He had been taken in by his master's gentle voice, his open hand of friendship – tools of deception, for were not words and gestures the instruments of diplomacy and negotiation, of manipulation? Obi-Wan Kenobi: the 'Great Negotiator.' Silver-tongued Kenobi, indeed - only his apprentice had been the unwitting tool that the master had perfected the practice of his arts on.

The Chancellor's hand clasped his arm in silent sympathy, consoling his young friend.

"I fear you may be right, Anakin. I, too, have seen how he holds you back, not trusting your instincts. I do believe you told me how he clung to the Council's mandate some months back when you were asked to protect our esteemed Senator Amidala from assassins. He did not understand, as did you, the necessity of pursuing an investigation into who was responsible or why – if no other reason than to protect our dear Senator from living in fear that she, or those she loved, were under constant threat of death."

Padme! Anakin blanched with the memory. His angel had been in danger. He remembered his eagerness and trepidation at seeing "his angel" for the first time as a young man, knowing her life was in danger; yet thrilled that he and his master had been asked to protect her. He had been tongue-tied, meeting her again. The young boy's adoration was a man's desire as soon as his eyes met hers – he knew he had to protect her, hold her close, and make her his. She _was_ his! She was his destiny, and he hers, forever interlinked.

He wanted to protect her from harm, promise her love and happiness, and let his lips kiss her worries away.

Padme! The death of her decoy, Corde, had caused her deep grief – she would have been devastated had another of her decoys died to protect her life, while Anakin and Obi-Wan merely played bodyguard.

His master had been content only to follow the Council's dictate to protect her from assassins. Anakin had known that only by finding and removing the threat could she be protected, saved from harm. Padme would have been smothered under the shroud of constant danger and his master had been willing to let her live in fear for the simple reason that he had not been _asked_ to do more.

His artificial hand clenched and unclenched as he remembered that time. His master did not understand indirect threats, how a person suffered and shriveled under the unknown threat. Obi-Wan would have let Padme suffer, as he had been willing to dismiss Anakin's dreams of his mother; he only sprang into action when a direct threat arose.

He surfaced from his thoughts to hear the Chancellor still speaking.

"I had hoped Master Kenobi's penchant for following the letter of the rules arose from a rigid personality rather than fear of being upstaged by his brilliant protégé, but I see it is entirely possible, as you seem to think, that he was afraid your power would eclipse his own, and thus affect his own prestige amongst the Jedi."

_Was not Obi-Wan believed to be a candidate for the next opening on the Council? Was he jockeying for the position by diminishing his more powerful padawan to build himself up in the Council's eyes?_

"Chancellor, I fear you may be right, though I would not have believed it of him before now." Anakin shook his head. Had not the Chancellor pointed it out to him, he would never have believed it, but it seemed so plausible. What other reason could there be? Protect his padawan, as Obi-Wan claimed? Anakin Skywalker did not need protecting. Excuses, his words were mere excuses. He was grateful that he had at least one person he could trust, who could see clearly what had been hidden from him.

"How could you have seen what I could not?"

"I have eyes to see, and a heart that cares about you," Palpatine said gently. "You looked on your master with love, though he appears not to deserve it, and love is subject to blindness. True friendship, as between us, is built on truth. What shall you do now, my boy?"

Anakin shook his head wearily, and slumped into a seat. "I don't – know. I can't think. I need to think."

Palpatine sat beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder, eyes sympathetic. "I understand. Perhaps…you might leave the Jedi? Their path is too narrow for you, we both know that. And now – what can they offer you? They don't offer you their trust, they don't accept you, and they don't love you, isn't that right, Anakin?"

Anakin's eyes snapped open and he sat up. "I will remain a Jedi as long as you need the Jedi to save the Republic, Chancellor. _I_ will never let you down. Have no doubt of that. I'm going to ask to be sent back to the war; there's no reason for me to stay here any longer. I'll go back, for you, and win this war for you. But after that…we'll see."

The Chancellor's hand rested on his shoulder, approvingly, as he leaned forward. "Thank you, son. I appreciate it – the Republic appreciates it. Your anger at your deception is not misplaced. No, indeed not, even such a great Jedi as you should not be ashamed to feel this righteous anger which you try to conceal so well. Don't be afraid of your emotions, my boy, they can guide you if you let them. Really, Anakin, I believe I even heard your own Master Kenobi, perhaps even Master Yoda, say that - despite popular opinion that Jedi have no emotions at all. That can't possibly be true, now can it?"

Palpatine leaned back and smiled, teasing a return smile from the young Jedi. "Really, my dear boy, no human being can remain totally free from emotion without being, well, inhuman. Ergo, there is no problem with a Jedi having emotions; your anger is more than justifiable."

He beamed at Anakin, who slowly nodded in agreement.

Bant was worried about Obi-Wan. To anyone who didn't know him well, nothing seemed amiss. He still went to his physical therapy sessions and he seemed to push himself harder than ever.

Bant knew his heart wasn't in it. Obi-Wan was substituting physical exercise for his grief and regrets. By the second day, his already slim appetite disappeared, and dark circles were beginning to show under his eyes. The man of many words apparently now had few, and his eyes held a silent weariness and uncertainty that could only be seen by those with eyes to see and a heart to understand.

Though normally mild of manner, Bant wanted to get a hold of Anakin and ask him just what he meant by treating an already sick man in such a way. Whatever the problems between the two of them, this was not the time to indulge them.

She would have shaken Obi-Wan, too, but he was already hurting and sick, feeling the pangs of guilt, and she wasn't about to add to his unhappiness by trying to talk some sense into him while his padawan was still absent. Bant knew Obi-Wan's mind had to be still reeling from the aftereffects of his padawan's attempt to break the bond, whether he knew it or not; she suspected this was interfering with his usual ability to find inner peace.

"Go after Anakin, lock him in a room and talk to him until you two straighten this out," she wanted to say, but Obi-Wan wasn't in a condition to roam Coruscant looking for his wayward apprentice, and with a silent bond, he had no other way to track him.

Garen was more than willing to hunt Anakin down and haul him back to Obi-Wan by the scruff of the neck, if necessary, so the two of them could resolve their conflict. He made the mistake of so saying to Obi-Wan, sparking a reaction that had surprised both men.

Though Garen knew Obi-Wan was not blameless, the Jedi was already all too well aware of his role and anxious to make amends; certainly he was suffering enough from self-recrimination for any errors in judgment he had made without Garen adding to his misery.

He was pacing in Obi-Wan's quarters while Obi-Wan quietly sat, leaning back in his seat eyes closed. Without opening his eyes, he said wearily, "Garen, would you sit down and stop that pacing. It solves nothing and does not make me feel any better, or you either, for that matter."

"Have you any idea where Anakin is? Obi-Wan, let me go after him, haul him back here so you can talk some sense into him, or even better, let me. He had no right to say the things he did to you, no matter how upset he was. He was out of line and someone needs to tell him so." That's when he made his declaration that he'd like to haul Anakin back to face his master by "the scruff of his neck."

Obi-Wan's head snapped forward as he sat up straight and his words came out clipped and firm.

"Garen, you are my friend, but Anakin is my padawan." _Is_, or_ was_, he half-wondered, but kept the thought to himself. "His feelings are his; debating with you whether they were expressed appropriately or not is not my intent, nor am I willing to abdicate my own responsibility in fixing this, if that is possible. This is an issue between us, please don't interfere." His voice was sharp as he sat up. Blind or not, his sharp eyes stared directly at his friend, until Garen flushed and sat down.

Obi-Wan was right. For now at least, this was an issue between master and padawan; he had overstepped. It was not his place to reprimand Anakin. Leaning forward, he patted Obi-Wan's hand in rueful acknowledgement.

"I'm sorry, my friend. It just hurts me to see you hurting like this."

Obi-Wan relaxed and attempted an apologetic smile as he settled back in his seat. His hand wandered upwards to absently brush his chin.

"I know, Garen, but Anakin is hurting far more than I, he doesn't need disciplining at this time, he needs my apology and an understanding of my reasons," Obi-Wan said. He sighed. "I will – accept this – this rupture between us, in time. Whatever happens… after all, I'm the one always preaching to accept, to let go." He tried to smile, but it was a sorry excuse for a smile, one that barely touched his lips.

"In the meantime…I worry for him, what my silence has done to him. It is my fault and I am the one who has to set it right. I will find a way…if he ever allows me to speak to him. I appreciate your concern, but it is Anakin that needs it, more than I."

His voice softened. "My friend, you best offer me comfort by your presence. I am grateful for the support you have given me and the support you continue to offer, but confine yourself to consoling me if you feel you must. I appreciate your wish to intervene on my behalf, but this is our issue to resolve, not yours. Your defending me to my padawan will only interfere, no matter how well-intentioned."

"Then, my friend, I shall continue to offer my ear to anything you wish to say." Garen's hand came up to rest on his friend's shoulder, and Obi-Wan's flattened over it in gratitude.

"There is little to say that hasn't been said by now, Garen. It hurts to know how I let him down; you know that already. I continue to worry about him…. I shall recover; I always do, for the Force is most accepting of my regrets and troubles. My shoulders are never long burdened with problems, mine or others."

If there was an edge of bitterness to his voice, Garen missed it. Obi-Wan Kenobi was untouched by emotion, so Anakin had accused not long ago. He would let go this pain, too, and for once the Jedi didn't find the thought comforting. He didn't deserve inner peace as long as his padawan still carried the wounds of his master's silence.

Since neither Garen nor Bant knew where to look for Obi-Wan's absent apprentice, and there was little they could do even had Obi-Wan allowed, they continued to do what they could: keep Obi-Wan company in the quiet evenings. No one had seen Anakin since he had left Bant the day before yesterday, careful inquiries had shown.

By now the entire Temple knew of Master Kenobi's blindness, and it seemed many wondered just where his padawan was – perhaps meeting with the Council on his future. The Chosen One, in a time of war, could not hang idle at his master's side. Would he be allowed to take the Trials and move on? Be assigned a new master until then? No one dared speculate too openly, but none knew of his absence from the Temple, or the rift between master and padawan.

Master Kenobi himself continued to walk the hallways, continued therapy, and taught a few initiate classes, and if he seemed more haggard and silent than usual, few noticed. He seemed only to smile when addressed directly, and then he answered courteously and walked on.

Bant was with him one time when they stopped to exchange greetings with one of the initiate masters, herding her charges through the halls. As they left, they could hear one of the younglings asking quietly, "why is he so sad looking?" They rounded a corner before Obi-Wan spoke up quietly.

"Is it that obvious, Bant? I am finding serenity hard to achieve these days."

"To those with eyes, Obi, yes– you've lost that inner peace you usually carry around," Bant replied. "You'll find it again. It's only been a couple of days, so I'm not too worried about you. Yet." Her last words were a gentle warning.

"I worry about Anakin. He hasn't been seen since he left you – I hope he does nothing rash. Bant, I just don't know what to do right now." Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose…I just wait for the Force to guide me. Hopefully it will know how I can heal this, if it can be healed."

The quiet despair in his voice concerned her. All she could do was pat his arm, and hope the Force guided the two Jedi to reconcile soon. Both of them cared too much for each other to let the rift between them be permanent. She knew Anakin had to be hurting just as bad as Obi-Wan; neither of them would heal until they both did. She knew Obi-Wan had already forgiven Anakin; she hoped his padawan would find forgiveness within himself, also.

Obi-Wan wanted – needed – his padawan's forgiveness, for only then could he forgive himself.


	29. Truth Revealed

Author's Note: we are slowly making our way out of the angst towards resolution.

Anakin had spent most of that first day and the next aimlessly wandering, cloaked and face down turned, doing his best to hide from the awful truth, but gradually as his anger and disappointment muted and faded into something he could examine, he realized he had overreacted.

Obi-Wan had lied to him, he knew without a doubt. The only reason Obi-Wan would lie to him had to be because the Jedi didn't trust him. The reality of that truth still burned within him.

But the master and padawan had been through too much together for him to doubt that there was at least a seed of affection for him within Obi-Wan's heart. Strangely, it had been Chancellor Palpatine's own words that had made him re-examine his anger. He had seen love built on pillars of deception as well as towers of truth, and both had been love, in their own ways.

The affection may have co-existed with the resentment, especially in the first years, but Obi-Wan had never offered open affection to his padawan. He had shown kindness and consideration; his guidance had been tendered with a stern but fair hand. If he had never claimed affection, the lack of it could not truly be deception, for Obi-Wan had never hid behind protestations of the same.

But hadn't he sent affection through the bond, there on Skore? _I love you_, Anakin had sent, and _I love you, too_, Obi-Wan had replied. His master must have been lying, then, too – but he had been in too much pain and in no condition to lie.

If he hadn't lied, he had told the truth, and the bond was not a tool of deception but of truth revealed.

What had Yoda said, seemingly so many years ago? The truth of Obi-Wan's feelings was displayed in his actions, not in his words. The truth of that had rung within his heart for the first time, beyond all doubt. His instincts told him so.

But he had lied to his padawan! If trust was not there, could the same be true for affection or its lack? Were they sheltered behind walls made of rare words of praise and approving eyes, a shell of deceit covering empty emotion buried within soft words and gentle smiles?

Anakin was sorely confused by now, and the truths he held to were slipping between his fingers as the sands of Tatooine until he no longer knew if the first truths, or the revisions, or those that followed that were true.

He had wandered, and wondered, too long.

There was only one place he could go for truth. The place he should have gone to first.

His wife.

* * *

"Oh, Miss Padme, I am so glad to see you home! Master Anakin is quite distraught and I fear he is wearing a pattern in your flooring as he paces – he is mumbling some rather less than pleasant words about Master Kenobi." Rather disapprovingly, Padme's protocol droid, Threepio, made a droid's snort of offended gentility. Really, he thought Jedi weren't given to such language, and to address such utter rubbish about that quite well mannered Jedi master was – well, really rather rude.

Padme barely heard her protocol droid babbling something about how the young Jedi had arrived, all upset and muttering angrily some time before. As soon as she heard "Anakin" and "upset" Padme ignored the droid and rushed inside to find her husband, leaving the droid talking to empty air.

"Oh, my," Threepio finished off as Padme rushed past him, aghast at his mistress's lack of courtesy. Master Anakin was having a most unfortunate affect on Miss Padme's own manners. "Oh, dear, oh, dear – I see that you have already seen this. Oh, my…yes, yes, I think I shall quite leave the two of you alone to sort this out.

"Anakin! What are you doing here now? Is something the matter?" Anakin was restlessly pacing in the great room as she entered, and the sight both startled and frightened her.

"Obi-Wan doesn't trust me," he burst out, whirling to face her with eyes aflame with hurt and anger.

"Don't be silly," Padme exclaimed, stopping dead in her tracks and staring at her husband in utter shock. "Where ever did you come up with that foolish idea? You're the one who told me, no matter how much he irritated you, you at least had a master who cared enough to get frustrated with you. Whatever has happened to make you now doubt that?"

Anakin's mouth was set in an obstinate line that Padme knew well. "I know very well when someone lies to me. Padme, he - he's blind, has been since he was hurt, and everyone knew but me!"

"Blind? Obi-Wan? Oh, my poor Obi-Wan. How's he dealing with it?"

"I wouldn't know - he refused to let me know, to help him. All this time, he's kept quiet, kept it hidden because he didn't trust me with the truth. Padme, he lied to me because he doesn't trust me, never has. He didn't trust me enough to tell me; he's never wanted me, never, only I never knew that until now."

The young Jedi's eyes blazed and he clenched his hands at his side as he turned away to hide his pain from his wife.

"Oh, Anakin," Padme put a hand over her mouth in astonishment, before rushing over to envelope her husband in a tight hug; he only pulled away and started pacing. "Anakin, love, there has to be some other reason he didn't tell you - didn't he say anything?"

"He said he wanted me to know when - when I could see he was functioning okay; when he didn't need me!"

"That sounds like the Obi-Wan I know," she giggled, then hurriedly stifled her amusement. Her husband was anything but amused, and despite years as Obi-Wan's padawan, hadn't apparently learned as much about his master as his padawan's wife had. She quickly crossed to him and wrapped her arms around his back to hug him close.

Stroking the back of his neck, she whispered against his ear. "Isn't he just the most self-sacrificing noble Jedi you've ever met, love?" He stiffened against her, as she knew he would. She continued to stroke his neck.

"Remember that time he jumped in front of a blaster bolt aimed at your back, even though he knew by doing so he left himself open? You didn't even know he was hurt until he almost collapsed…he told you he didn't want you to get distracted since the odds were so bad against both of you, remember, Ani?"

At least Anakin was listening to her; he hadn't relaxed, but he hadn't stiffened further or pulled away.

"Remember that time you took a knife in your shoulder," her voice was soft, and her fingers traced down his neck and along his shoulder to rub the long-healed spot.

"You thought Obi-Wan would send you back behind the lines, and you were afraid he would try to fight on alone, so you lied to him and said it was only a graze? When he found out, later, it was far more serious, he chewed you out royally and you told him you had done it for his own good? Seems to me that both of you have a tendency to hide the truth from each other when you think the truth is going to hurt."

She felt Anakin stir beneath her arms, and she slid her arms down his chest and laid her head against the curve of his neck and shoulder. "You two lie to each other because you two care about each other, and you're both too stubborn to just admit it. Just have to be the good Jedi who don't display emotion to other Jedi, try to be self-sufficient and never admit you need the other's help - think what the other one of you doesn't know can't hurt him, right?"

_I wanted you to know…when it would hurt you less…when you could see that I could still function... Sometimes, sometimes even Jedi have to admit when they need help... this isn't easy for me, but I need to talk with you... I need you…. There are things I'm struggling with…and… help me…._

His master had tried to reach out to him, admit he needed his padawan's help, and Anakin had turned him away, thrown words back at him, told him to deal with his own problems himself - even after his master tried to open up; even tried to help his padawan with his own problems.

"By the Force, Padme!" he exploded, and shook his head in sudden realization. Padme had a way of seeing into the heart of things that he often missed and making him see them, too.

"You always know what to say, don't he?" he said reluctantly, and turned around to wrap her in his arms. His eyes softened, and he kissed her, wrapping his arms around her as she slid her arms around his neck.

"I am a Senator," she reminded him between kisses. Breathless, she pushed herself back before Anakin's kisses got too passionate; already she could feel an awakening of his need to be with her, his hands slipping suggestively down and resting where only her husband's hands were allowed, his lips nibbling at her ear. She pushed him away before she weakened under his touch; already she was arching her back in pleasure at feeling his body pressed against hers.

Her husband was hurting inside and she needed to help him see that his hurt, while real, was based on his master's misplaced wish to protect him. This issue between master and padawan needed to be dealt with, before the two of them could give themselves up to being husband and wife.

"No, Ani, later, not now – not when you're hurting like this," she said, placing a finger on his lips as he protested, waited for his reluctant nod as he released her. "You have to stop faulting him for not being the man you think he should be and start seeing him as the man he really is – your master _and_ your friend."

She sat down on the couch and extended a hand to him. She couldn't bear to see her husband this distraught

"Just because he's a Jedi, and a wise man, doesn't mean Obi-Wan always knows the right thing to say to you, or when, or how. Your master's not perfect, Anakin, he's still a man, and he makes mistakes. As do you, but you seem to feel he's letting you down by not being perfect. You resent him for not being perfect and you resent him when he's right as well as when he's wrong. The poor man just can't earn your respect."

"What about him respecting me?" he protested, hurt at her words, yet recognizing at least some truth in them. "It'd be nice if he said that I did something right, once in a while, instead of always sighing at me or saying in that stupidly gentle and ever so sarcastic way of his, 'Anakin,' or even that lifted eyebrow expression of his? Do you know how maddening that is?"

"Oh, Anakin," Padme sighed with a knowing smile. "Have you ever told him how that irritates you?"

Anakin was silent. "Well, yes. I believe so…no…I just snap something stupid right back at him. Aren't we mature!" For the first time in several days, Anakin laughed.

Padme was right, Anakin realized. Just as Yoda had said words that had opened his eyes to Obi-Wan's heart, Padme reminded him of the truth that his hurt couldn't deny. No matter what hurtful words or secrets divided them, their bond was strong enough to hold their relationship together.

Even his friend Palpatine couldn't see that deep into their hearts, into what bound them together; obviously the Chancellor's ability to read people was incomplete without the Force guiding him to the less obvious and deeper truths.

"I do respect him,' he protested. "I just hate it when he's…oh Force, you're right. I hate it when he lets me down by not being perfect, I hate it when he's right, and I really hate it when he's wrong - and I don't know why he irritates me so much. He's my master and my friend and I do care for him."

"Are you going to forgive him, Anakin?"

"You aren't giving me a choice, are you?" His voice was rueful.

"He loves you, Anakin. He wouldn't knowingly hurt you. I can see that, why can't you?" She gave him a little shake as she leaned back in his arms.

"Stubborn, I guess," he smiled at her and kissed her. "I guess I was rather hard on him, but, Padme, you have no idea how bad I felt knowing everyone else knew – everyone but me. Force, Padme! I accused him of not trusting me – of not wanting me!"

The pain in his heart this time was self-inflicted as he began to realize the harm his hurt and anger had done to them both. _He_ had lashed out at his master in reaction to his pain; his master had caused him that pain in a misguided attempt to protect him.

_I even told him I no longer cared…I could see how that hurt him deeply, perhaps – perhaps that was the deepest wound of all. And it wouldn't hurt him, if he didn't care, too. My poor master…._

"Shhh, Anakin," Padme laid a finger on his lips. "He'll forgive you. He's probably already forgotten all about it, or more likely, blaming himself."

The hurt and pain he'd seen in Obi-Wan's eyes; the outstretched hand pleading for understanding…he felt terrible remembering how he had left his mentor. And trying to sever the bond…the pain he'd inflicted on them both…his tone was very sober as he shook his head in sudden realization and horrible guilt.

"Padme, I tried to break our bond – I _hurt_ him, Padme, I really hurt him." The memory brought him to his feet, to bow his head as full realization crashed in on him of just how badly he had reacted, of all that he had done or might have done in his anger. The young Jedi was ashamed of his lack of control, the words he had flung at his mentor. Even worse, he was suddenly scared.

Terrified, even.

Would he have raised more than his hand to his master in anger, had his rage been inflamed by hate rather than hurt? Was it possible that Obi-Wan could again have been sprawled in blood at his feet, only this time at his hands rather than saved by them?

_He isn't even fully recovered yet! What if I truly harmed him by trying to break the bond and he is now in the Healer's Ward recovering? Can he even now be lying, pale and still once more, suffering, only this time at _my_ own hands?_

"It's okay, Anakin, it's okay," Padme whispered, running her fingers through his hair, suddenly scared for the blood had drained from her husband's face to leave him pale and distressed. "He's a most forgiving man; how many times has he forgiven you over the years?"

Anakin sat, buried his face in his hands, tried not to panic. Trying to control his emotions, for now he understood all the cautions he had dismissed about not letting emotion control him. For the first time, his words were quiet and filled with despair.

"No, I don't think he'll forgive this…Padme, I don't think I can forgive myself."

* * *

"What if Anakin doesn't forgive me?" Obi-Wan asked, sighing as he leaned his head against his hand, absently rubbing his cheek. "He's been gone for several days now and no one has seen him. We have to resolve this, one way or the other, before he jeopardizes his future."

Garen exchanged a look with Bant. Obi-Wan barely ate, picking at the meals they fixed for him or meals they persuaded him to eat in the Temple food hall. The hollows in his cheeks deepened and the Jedi moved listlessly. He wasn't sleeping well; the circles under his eyes grew more and more pronounced.

"What do you mean by that?" Garen asked, half afraid he knew what Obi-Wan was going to say.

"If he chooses not to remain my padawan, he needs another master until he's ready for his Trials," the Jedi said, surprised he had to point it out, his voice hollow. "There's precedent for that, you know, usually following the death of a master, but no reason it can't work in this situation."

"You need to stop being so bloody practical about all this," Bant said, surprising even herself with her vehemence. "Fight to get him back, Obi."

"I don't know where he is, or where to even look," he replied, trying to sound reasonable when he felt anything but. "Okay, stop protesting. Look you two, we can't go on without trust. You know that. And don't start in comparing Qui-Gon and I with Anakin and I – trust can only be rebuilt if both parties wish to try. By his continued absence it's apparent Anakin has no wish to do so."

"You stubborn Jedi," Bant said warmly. "I wish you'd be just as stubborn about trying to eat and getting stronger. If you don't, you'll end up in the Healers Ward again, I mean it. You're not looking at all well and you're only making yourself ill."

"No more than I deserve," he mumbled, sotto voce. Obi-Wan heard his own words and nearly snorted at them, for that wasn't a comment a Jedi would make, let alone a Jedi master. On the other hand, he didn't feel like releasing his emotions into the Force, either. Not as long as his padawan was – somewhere – hurting and in pain from emotional wounds inflicted on him by his own master.

Growling in frustration, Obi-Wan shoveled in a mouthful of food, swallowed it and muttered, "Does that make you happier?"

"Only if you eat the rest of it," Bant said, using a severe tone on him. "Stop growling at us. Go find Anakin and growl at him until he starts to listen."

"Listen? That boy has never wanted to listen to me," he protested. It was true – Anakin had long ago decided that he already knew all that he needed to know, causing both of them a great deal of frustration. Anakin was powerful, with good instincts, but he had never learned to think through a situation or explore alternative paths.

Obi-Wan's biggest challenge had been trying to get Anakin to work on his weaknesses, while Anakin fought to expand his strengths.

"Have you asked Master Yoda or another master to try to reach him on his comlink?" Garen asked. "Maybe he's just ignoring you."

How could he admit that his worries were fueled by more than his padawan's absence or ignoring comm calls? Careful inquiry on his part had revealed that Anakin had neither visited Padme or the Chancellor.

"I was hoping to keep the Council, uninformed of this, shall we say," Obi-Wan said reluctantly. "It may reflect badly on us both and I have no wish to jeopardize his future."

Qui-Gon had nearly not accepted him back at thirteen; had all but spurned him at twenty-five in favor of another, and now his padawan mistrusted him.

All in all, it was a dismal track record for a Jedi. Some role model, indeed.


	30. Reflections and SelfDoubt

Silence had once been welcomed. It offered a chance to reflect, to meditate, to feel at peace.

That was _before_.

Hate was not an emotion that Obi-Wan Kenobi embraced. He avoided it like the plague.

But hate was near to what he felt for the silence, now.

Silence was no longer welcomed. In it, his mind sought to make sense of all that had happened. His heart was only too happy to speak its piece, and the song it sang was of pain and heartache. His mind was all too ready to embrace it with memories of unspoken words that would have been far better spoken, and spoken words that would have been better left unspoken.

Obi-Wan Kenobi now intensely disliked the silence. He knew the spiraling downward path of his thoughts, and the struggle to pull out of them.

In was in the silence that his mind heard again those words flung at him and in those same silences that his heart felt again the sting of his padawan's terrible pain.

It was silent again, and the silence had again invited in the pain, though his friend Garen sat nearby.

It was even worse, in the silent evenings and depths of the night after his friends left him, his only companions his guilt and regrets, for it was then that Obi-Wan came closest to self-pity. Sleep did not come easily when he lay his head upon his pillow, either, and what disturbed the Jedi master the most was that he needed to consciously resist its siren call. Such pointless wallowing was irrational and negative at best - hardly an emotion for a Jedi to indulge in, let alone Obi-Wan Kenobi, calm and serene Jedi master.

Though it irritated him, in a way it comforted him – it confirmed he was not the heartless, uncaring man Anakin thought he was. Perhaps a heartless and uncaring Jedi – but he was finding, or perhaps rediscovering, the man submerged underneath the robes.

Still, self-pity was not healthy and it was not helpful, so Obi-Wan struggled to evade that beckoning emotion while trying to retain at least a thread of compassion for his padawan. Once he released the emotions in their entirety, fully and finally, he would be again strong and serene, calmly moving on with his life even as the one he was responsible for floundered.

He had been a passionate young man, not too unlike Anakin, in his pre-teen years, imbued with desire to right the galaxy's wrongs and rail against injustice. His impatience and anger had nearly derailed his dream of being a Jedi knight.

Coming as close as he had come to not having been chosen as a padawan had left scars on Obi-Wan - that combined with the first few years of his apprenticeship to a Jedi who was kind but emotionally distant towards him. No Jedi combined placidity with passion as had Qui-Gon Jinn, and the combination had often left his padawan frustrated, anxious and feeling unworthy – and therefore desirous of seeking perfection as a calm, serene, and centered Jedi.

Having finally achieved that desired serenity years ago after much struggle, Obi-Wan found it was no more a path to peace now than its absence. Every action had a reaction. Serenity was peace and surcease from emotion, and therefore apt to be construed as distant and cold. To find serenity again was to perhaps absolve himself of his own responsibility, yet to wallow in regrets was no kinder to either party.

Opening himself to his padawan's intense emotions and passions had unsettled the peace Obi-Wan had long ago found between his own inner emotions and outer serenity. Perhaps that was why he was so troubled. Anakin's intense emotions warred with his own hard-won tranquility and his system hadn't sorted out one Jedi's emotions from the other's.

In hindsight, Obi-Wan realized that Anakin had really needed someone older and experienced as his master. Had fate not intervened, Qui-Gon would have been the master Anakin needed. Even he himself, if this older Obi-Wan he was now had taken the young Anakin to train, he might have found greater success. The young man with so much promise and potential had both needed and deserved better than a young and untested knight barely past his own apprenticeship, one who had done his best, but found his best was not enough.

Training Anakin was an experience he cherished far more than regretted, but Anakin would have been better served with another master. Obi-Wan deeply regretted that he had not been able to be the master to him that he had needed to be.

His regrets were for Anakin. His joys far outweighed his sorrows for himself.

Yet the Jedi master knew that dwelling on choices long made and past reversing was pointless. Deciding on how best to move forward was what he needed to do, no matter how personally painful he might find the process and the decisions he faced.

Even reflecting on all this, Obi-Wan found it hard to move on. The past, the present and future were all intertwined and chasing each other in circles in a mind that was too weary to banish them.

Bant was right. He needed to take care of himself, to build up his strength, so he could now be the master that Anakin needed – whether that be his master, or his former master.

However, he was finding that separating self-reflection and self-pity was proving far too difficult for one of his years and experience. Only meditation and awareness of his conflicted feelings were keeping him afloat – that and the reassuring presence of his friends.

He glanced sideways at Garen sitting nearby, and shook his head at himself, for _glancing_ showed him nothing. Habits of a lifetime were slow to leave. They had hit a lull in their conversation. Garen was leaving in the morning and both men knew it might be a long time before they met again.

War did that.

Obi-Wan sighed. He would miss Garen. He had grown used to having someone near by. Most of his life had been spent with first Qui-Gon, then Anakin, with no solitary existence in between. It had eased him to have his childhood friends with him these past few evenings as he reflected on his errors and ways to rectify them. As now, they sat in silent, comfortable companionship for all the words had been long spoken and options examined.

Settling his head back against his chair, he slipped back into his thoughts.

Twice now he had had a bond torn asunder, Obi-Wan mused, rubbing his chin and trying not to be bitter. Twice now he had recovered. The first time he had long suspected it was his fault for not remaining at his master's side; this second time suspicion was certainty, for he knew it was his fault for driving his padawan away.

He, as always, went on with his life. Obi-Wan Kenobi, the ever calm and centered Jedi master, was untouched by all that surrounded him. No one but Bant, Garen, and Anakin himself knew of the breach in his relationship with his padawan. If it didn't get repaired soon, he would have to speak to the Council and initiate a formal separation that was already done in all but name.

It was not his place to do so; he was not the injured party, but unless Anakin returned and spoke for himself, it would have to be the master who confessed to breaking the bond of trust between master and padawan. Anakin's continued absence would not go over well, once made known to the Council.

Anakin had a right to ask for reassignment to a new master; he would have the Council's sympathies if he returned and spoke to them soon, as a Jedi would, rather than sulking somewhere with his wounds.

Wounds his master had inflicted on him. Who else, but the padawan, would suffer for the master's mistake. It was always someone else who atoned for Obi-Wan's errors in judgment. He was never the one to pay the price.

His hand clenched and he wanted to kick something, scream in frustration. Years of practice kicked in; he took a deep breath and stared into space. _I can't even _not _center myself,_ he thought bitterly.

"Hey, Obi-Wan, wake up," Garen said at his side, breaking into his thoughts. "You're brooding again. Release it." His tone was lightly teasing, and Obi-Wan shook his head with a slight frown as he surfaced from his thoughts.

"I wasn't asleep," he grumbled half-heartedly. "Just…thinking."

"Well, they weren't pleasant thoughts, then, from the expression on your face. I really hate to leave tomorrow. Duty calls, but I wish I could stay and see you through this. Let me know when…well, you know. I hate to see you hurting like this."

"Hurt? I don't hurt, Garen, not any more. I did what years of practice taught me; I released it and let it go. I'm just waiting for Anakin to formalize our separation."

The Jedi's tone may have been even and uninflected with emotion, but his thoughts were obviously still troubled for he had rested his chin into one hand and was lightly rubbing it.

Garen laid a hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed it.

"No, Obi-Wan. I know you too well. Release it you might, but return it does because you really care for that boy and are afraid of losing him. You're waiting for a chance to speak to him, to apologize and reconcile with him. If you won't speak to the Council, speak to Yoda. You know he'll try to help you both, and deep down, that's what you want isn't it – what's best for Anakin? That might mean losing him, but you'll keep your self-respect-"

"Self-respect!" exploded from the Jedi, followed by a startled frown and rueful grin in order. "Keep it, no. Regain it, perhaps."

"You would metaphorically fall on your saber to do what's best for him, Obi-Wan, and we both know it. Swallow your pride – sorry – your guilt and frustration and speak to Yoda. Put it in the hands of someone who's not too close to it, someone who might see a way to resolve it that's best for best of you. Stars above, my friend, this sitting around is doing nothing. You're suffering way too much for merely keeping silent in a misguided attempt to protect your padawan."

"What would you have me do, Garen?" The question was said in frustration. "I have my temporary duties which I fulfill, I have therapy which I still attend, I am not sitting around sulking or something like you think. I can't go after Anakin, you know – I don't know where he is or how to find him and I certainly can't make him listen to my apologies."

He hadn't been able to make his padawan listen to his lessons, either. Anakin listened to what he chose to, based on some unknowable criteria of what he found important.

The Council should really have asked him to teach the initiates how to remain outwardly serene while chaos reined, rather than speaking of diplomacy and the art of negotiation. It had taken all the self control of a master to face the classes these last couple of days since he had been released to light duty – the same days since he had wounded his padawan and driven him away.

Normally, he rather enjoyed those occasions when he had a chance to face a roomful of eager initiates. He didn't have to stay constantly alert, always tactful, and always pleasant in the face of hostility as when he was on a mission. There was a good chance the Council might ask him to take a full time teaching master position when he was released from restricted duty.

He could teach the youngsters plenty about guilt and betrayal, and how not to model themselves after him.

"Sulk?" Garen laughed. "Kenobi sulk? That, my friend, will never happen, but worry, yes. Your problem, my friend, is accepting responsibility for everything that happens, even to taking it way out of proportion. You made a mistake. Hey, even Obi-Wan Kenobi is allowed to make mistakes. Anakin overreacted. That's his problem. Wait until he calms down – you know he always does, and then you two talk and straighten it out. Again. Star's above, get ahold of yourself, Obi-Wan and move on."

A sigh greeted his words. "My padawan is hurting, Garen. He has all but disappeared – he tried to break the bond, for Force's sake." Even the memory of that mind-rip brought a wince to his face and a hand to rub his temple in remembered pain. "This is no trivial disagreement between us easily resolved."

"You're hurting, too, Obi-Wan. Okay, right or wrong, you hurt Anakin – unintentionally, I might add. Instead of just being hurt, he felt betrayed for some unfathomable reason and lashed out. He totally overreacted; he hurt you. Purposefully. Get over your guilt. Give him an example. You know how much he looks up to you when he's thinking straight. Show him how to forgive and move on."

"And just how do you propose I show my absent padawan anything?" The acerbic tone in Obi-Wan's voice only made Garen grin. Now his friend was sounding more like himself. Perhaps he was pulling himself out of this. It was about time. The last time Obi-Wan hadn't been himself was on his return from Naboo, so many years before. He was entitled to a few days of brooding every few years.

"Don't worry, he'll show up sometime. Even if Anakin is so foolish as to consider leaving the Order, he would have to come back and face the Council. He'll be back, no doubt about that."

Anakin leave the Order? From the shocked expression on Obi-Wan's face, the thought had not even occurred to him.

It was, perhaps, not the best thought to have put into Obi-Wan's mind.


	31. Moving Forward

Obi-Wan had found his center again. Having accepted the need to move on, he had put his considerable determination to quashing the pangs of his heart.

He was a Jedi. He was back on duty, even if restricted duty, and it had been time to let go. Now, he needed to move on.

If Anakin didn't return or communicate with someone, anyone, soon, he would speak to the Council and give it into their hands. Let them decide to delay a decision, dissolve the bond, or reassign Anakin to another Jedi. It would be out of his hands.

The Force had offered him no guidance; it had only soothed and accepted his pain as always.

His mind was clearer now, and he had come to some understanding of how his own master had felt years ago when the bonds of trust had become strained between them. Even Jedi could find it hard to reestablish trust and offer forgiveness, but it was a goal well worth the effort.

He would not turn his back on Anakin. Anakin would have to turn his back on him. His heart and his mind were in agreement on that. No matter the pain they had inflicted on each other, they were a team, friends, master and padawan. They could work it out.

They would work it out; if both chose to.

Obi-Wan cancelled Anakin's training sessions with little explanation to the masters. "My padawan is feeling a bit disturbed," was not too incorrect a statement, and avoided lengthy conversations. Whether or not word had spread regarding the split between the two, Jedi were too polite and guarded to assuage their curiosity with nosy questions.

While it was not yet the Council's business, both Yoda and Mace had kept their eyes, ears and Force senses open in case the conflict became the Council's business. Therefore, it was not too surprising when word got to them. Both suspected something was quite amiss since they both knew of Anakin's angry reaction when he had discovered what he considered Obi-Wan's deception, and his master's troubled mind.

Neither, though, knew of the attempted breaking of the bond and Obi-Wan's subsequent near collapse or of Anakin's absence and refusal to communicate with anyone at the Temple. Both hoped Anakin was perhaps seeking refuge in meditation.

They were willing to bid their time to give the master and padawan time to resolve their conflict, but knew the Council might have to get involved if a resolution was not soon forthcoming.

In his quiet, unobtrusive way, Mace had been concerned for both master and padawan, and had been keeping an eye on Obi-Wan from a distance. He had not been able to get even a glimpse of Anakin, but what he had seen of Obi-Wan the day after the confrontation had disturbed him.

Not knowing of the mental assault on the bond the prior night, Mace couldn't help but notice the Jedi's frequent massaging of his temple, his absent expression that day. His face had showed the strain of a sleepless night and there was a nearly-hidden weariness in his posture – betrayed only by a slump of the shoulders and hesitant steps, the slow bloom of a half-hearted smile in return of a greeting.

They were signs only someone looking for them would notice, for they were not obvious to the casual eye. Mace was rather concerned, for he feared that Obi-Wan was looking quite unwell.

It had been just a few days since the angry confrontation: several days of increasing concern on Mace's part, and so he determined to discuss his thoughts with Yoda.

The two conferred in the Council chamber, speaking as concerned Jedi rather than Council members as they waited for the others to arrive.

"Have you talked to Obi-Wan in the last day or so– he was not looking well at all the other day," Mace asked. "I know we agreed to let the two of them settle their dispute themselves, but not at the cost of Obi-Wan's health. At least he's still carrying out his temporary duties, but where is his padawan? Have you seen young Skywalker – does he look just as bad? I have not seen him since all this happened."

"Seen him I have not," Yoda answered, contemplating his stick absently. "Interfere I hate to do. A watchful eye Healer Eerin is keeping on Obi-Wan and doing better he is, but as to Skywalker's whereabouts I do not know and concerned that makes me. Suspect he is absent from the Temple, I do, but where and with whom I wonder. Hurt and angry he was and perhaps a day to gain control I accept, but face his master and have this out he must, and soon. If relations between them are irretrievably broken and no longer as a team they can function, speak to the Council to break the bond either or both of them must."

Mace leaned forward, steepling his fingers as he pondered.

"Let us hope it does not come to that. They are a strong team and to separate over a disagreement is unwise, as well as not befitting Jedi. Work this out they have to and soon, from the way Obi-Wan was looking. I don't want to see him in the healers ward ill. I'm surprised he's let this affect him like this and not had it out with his padawan, but still, he has been through an awful lot lately."

"A simple disagreement between them it is not, I fear. An issue of trust and deception to young Skywalker. Not easily resolved, I fear, yet still resolved it can be if determined both are to mend their relationship."

"Let us hope they do so soon, then."

They ended the conversation as other Council members arrived and the business of the Order was conducted. The main topic, as usual these days, was the war effort, which had not been going well the last few campaigns. Dissatisfaction with the war leadership was gaining ground, and for the first time, the Jedi were being blamed as much as the politicians for not ending it.

During the meeting, Chancellor Palpatine sought an audience with the Council, communicating via hologram. His request was granted, and he got right to the point. Bowing to the Council, his eyes were stern but serious as he addressed the assembled members.

"My esteemed Jedi colleagues, our war effort has been faltering lately and we have been forced to retreat from several fronts. I know that General Kenobi is still recuperating from his terrible injuries, yet I now have been informed he was blinded by his injuries and therefore incapable of returning to the front. I know also that Commander Skywalker has requested that he be sent back to the front. I must respectfully request that you do so and promptly. The Republic needs a Jedi of his skills and stature there where his skills can best serve it."

The Council exchanged inscrutable glances. Yoda leaned forward on his stick and asked with great deliberation, "of Master Kenobi's condition you had not yet been informed, yet of this you have heard? As to Padawan Skywalker, spoken to the Council he has not at this time."

A genteel cough showed the Chancellor's embarrassment. "Surely General Kenobi's condition was not meant to be kept a secret from me, now was it?"

His tone became gently chiding.

"Masters, I have eyes to see and I suspected Master Kenobi's condition when I visited the Temple last. He is coming along quite nicely and I am sure he will regain his health – a Jedi as stubborn as he cannot fail when he puts his mind to it. Yet he is blind and best able to serve the Republic as a tactician behind the lines, for pure stubbornness and determination will not heal his blindness."

"His new role we will find once he is released to full duty," Yoda replied. "Several possibilities ahead for him there is."

"Of course, of course, a Jedi of his abilities will not be wasted in any of several positions that even I can think of. I do fear, however, his training of his padawan may suffer – less so from his disability than from young Skywalker's ability to be where he can do the most good."

The Chancellor's voice hardened a fraction. "When I spoke to Commander Skywalker he merely confirmed what I already knew, and he informed me then that he was going to request reassignment to the war effort as he felt he could be of more value there rather than, er, nursing his master back to full health, since Master Kenobi has been released to restricted duty as I understand it."

Palpatine carefully emphasized Kenobi's Jedi rank and Skywalker's military status, knowing the Jedi Council would understand his subtle warning. While the war was still technically in the hands of the Senate, it was well understood that the Chancellor's office was the true leader and the Jedi Council would do well to heed the Chancellor's request.

Mace and Yoda refrained from exchanging glances, but both knew they were thinking the same thing. An upset Anakin Skywalker had sought counsel outside the Order following his confrontation with his master. Neither of them were pleased to hear this, yet they were reassured by knowing he had at least sought advice and was looking towards his sworn duty to the Republic.

"Padawan Skywalker's duty at this time is to Master Kenobi," Mace said, carefully emphasizing both men's Jedi rank. "Should he speak to the Council and request reassignment, we shall give it every consideration, but you must understand our reluctance to send a padawan off without the guidance of his master."

"But surely he is ready to assume the rank of knight. After all he has accomplished and all he has done. Single-handedly he has pulled victory from defeat several times."

"Ready yet he is not." Mace said bluntly. "Prowess in combat alone does not make him ready and there are things he has yet to learn before we grant him the right to take the Trials."

The two men measured each with their eyes, recognizing in each other the same determination to have their way.

"Of course." The Chancellor's voice was neutral. "I trust any decision the Council makes will be in the best interest of the Republic."

"As always, our sworn duty is to the Republic, Chancellor, as it is to the Force. We shall not hesitate to do our duty to the best of our abilities."

Palpatine relaxed and smiled. "Of course, Master Windu. I appreciate your consideration. I am always available to confer with the guardians of the Republic."

His image flickered out and the Council sat silently, absorbing his words. Mace sighed and leaned back in his seat. "I do not like this. Palpatine is getting bolder with his requests of us. I am sure we all noticed his carefully chosen words. It is rather late to worry about his interest in young Skywalker, though I wish we had discouraged that friendship. It divides his loyalties in a way that I think is no longer good."

"We are all committed to the survival of the Republic, surely that is not a division of loyalties," Plo Koon commented.

"It should not be," Yoda spoke up. "Yet misgivings I have, but from where they spring, I cannot see. Too clouded the Force is."

After much deliberation, the session ended with no decisions.

Yoda and Mace slowly left the chamber behind the others.

"Speak to Obi-Wan I should; to Skywalker you should," Yoda said finally. "I like it not that the Chancellor informs us of what we should know already. Surprised he was, though hide it he did, that Skywalker had not spoken to us."

* * *

Daytime, duties and meditation granted Obi-Wan respite from the uneasy dreams of the night and the pain in his heart those dreams engendered. 

But each day was inevitably followed by night; an eternal night to one who was losing even the memory of sight and trying to embrace the enhanced senses that were picking up on sight's absence.

A sharp cry of protest broke from his throat and Obi-Wan awoke, his heart twisting in pain at the lash of his padawan's angry words, the sense that Anakin had all but raised his hand in violence against him. Groaning at again finding memories stealing rest from him, Obi-Wan lay in bed seeking to banish the memories that haunted his sleep when his defenses were lowest.

Yet the only way to banish them was to face them, and then to release them.

Until the following night's sleep was again broken.

Reaching out with his senses, Obi-Wan knew it was the depths of the night, for utter peace surrounded him, none of the soft and purposeful bustle of everyday life intruding. Contemplation and the soft gurgle of the fountains brought him the peace that sleep did not grant, so Obi-Wan arose with a sigh, wrapped himself in his cloak and moved silently through the empty halls to find a bench in the Room of a Thousand Fountains as he had each night since Anakin's abrupt departure – all but the night he had been curled up in pain fighting off the effects of the attempted breaking of the bond.

Even now, the mere thought of that night awoke echoes of pain in the cells of his mind.

The Room of a Thousand Fountains was a place that always soothed him in time of trouble or when he had trouble finding his center.

Here he had spent his last free time before leaving the Temple just shy of thirteen, forever he had thought, bound for the Agri-corps, deemed unsuitable as a Jedi padawan.

Here, too, he had found the soft, lulling music of the water a balm to the unexpectedly vacant spot in his mind after his bond with his master had been silenced and the warm glow extinguished that had been so much a part of him for more than ten years.

It had been where he and Siri had renounced their feelings for each other, and where he had retreated after her death, finding solace in remembrance as he sought to transform his grief into memories, much as he had done following Qui-Gon Jinn's death on Naboo.

A refuge it had long been for him, and was now again. He sank onto the bench and drank in the peace, letting it steal within him and wash away the left over dregs of guilt and pain that seemed determined to take up residence within him, and gradually he felt the peace of the place seep into his mind. He was that peace and that calm, and he was content.

"Again you cannot sleep?" A quiet voice floated from behind his shoulder.

"My sleep is oft troubled in the nights," Obi-Wan replied. His voice was soft and tranquil after this time here alone. He had known that he wasn't alone some few minutes ago. Yoda had made no effort to conceal his presence. "I didn't know you favored late hours."

"Favor them I do not." The diminutive master's voice held a note of amusement as he settled next to Obi-Wan in a comfortable silence. "Your padawan is still upset with your silence? Made your peace you have not."

The Jedi master chose his words carefully. "He must be as he is not yet speaking to me. Time and the Force will, I hope, heal his wounds. Until then, I find peace here when dreams steal it away."

Yoda merely grunted as he studied Obi-Wan. In the pale light, he could see the shadows of heartache nearly concealed, but he had always had an ability to see into the Jedi's hidden heart. Obi-Wan was still healing in mind and body from both his physical and mental wounds, so the Jedi master was willing to allow the younger Jedi time to reclaim the serenity so much a part of him for so long and it appeared Obi-Wan was well along on that path himself.

"Your padawan, yet to achieve that calmness of mind and spirit he needs. In skills he exceeds expectations. In mastery of self he still lacks."

"That I cannot seem to teach him," Obi-Wan replied, a pained half smile on his face. "It was a lesson I needed to relearn for myself. It has...not been easy, but I have found release and centered myself again, at least while awake. The nights are – somewhat more difficult. In time that too shall pass. I am nearly myself again."

"Nearly died you did, young Obi-Wan. A long and hard battle to live you fought; a toll it has taken on you. Expect too much of yourself too soon you do, if affect you it think it should not. Seek not perfection. Seek inner peace as now you do and leave the rest to the Force."

"And achieve inner peace at the cost of …." His words trailed off; he didn't wish to speak of Anakin's rage and pain in detail, not to a member of the Council, not even Yoda. Only he and Anakin knew all of the words exchanged that evening, though Bant and Garen had heard a good deal and guessed more; none but they knew of his padawan's attempt to break the bond and his own near collapse under it.

"Should I not have borne some regrets for at least a short while before I released it all into the Force? Underneath it all, I found that I was still a man, not just a Jedi. What the Jedi has released, the man cannot completely, not yet. Not in the depths of sleep when barriers weaken and the heart awakens."

"Human I am not," Yoda said with a soft chuckle. "Perhaps…no answer for you I have other than to say in time all things will pass. Accept the pain, Obi-Wan, but release it as know you already. The man cannot long hold onto it; the Jedi cannot do so either. All these emotions if too long unreleased lead easily to despair and grief. Of the dark side they are. Allow them to take hold you must not. Continue to resist; fight them you must. You must forgive your padawan his anger, but also must you forgive yourself. Only your own actions do you control. Let the Force guide you as always you have allowed it to."

"Ah, yes, release," he murmured, nodding. "Easier to release than to keep released, as always, but Qui-Gon once told me that it brings no shame to have the feelings return. He also said that once a step has been made, it cannot be undone. One can only move forward. Lessons I have perhaps failed to heed."

"Wise man was your master. A wise man too are you, youngling. Your strength – now is the time to draw on it. When fully centered you are, deal with this you will be able with the Force as your ally. Let it go, young one."

The simple truth in Yoda's words made Obi-Wan nod and sigh in agreement.

"I had already come to the same conclusion, Master Yoda." He suddenly grinned, though it touched only his lips. "If I can banish dreams, I'll be fine. The last battlefield, I fear it is."

"Have faith in you, do I. So, rest now you can, young one? Healing you need still to do."

"I sleep well after time spent here," Obi-Wan said, standing up and a grin twitching at the corner of his mouth. "I find it much more soothing than a sleep suggestion."

The little Jedi paused, his hand half outstretched. His ears rotated. "Hope I do that not too many nights more will I find you here. Fanciful footwork shall not save your ankle." He gave a meaningful cough that had Obi-Wan raising his hands in surrender as a half grin covered his face.

"Good night, Master Yoda." He bowed and returned to his quarters, knowing he would sleep peacefully the remainder of the night. He had again found his center. When it fled him, should it do so again, he would just have to seek it again – hopefully not at the end of Yoda's gimer stick.

He still couldn't help but hope that Anakin would forgive him for once again finding that very serenity that seemed to upset him so much. There was already so much to talk about, so much to forgive and hopefully, soon forget.

He would always be Anakin's master, no matter what. He just didn't know if Anakin would ever be his padawan again. Could Anakin find his own peace and move forward, or were the ties between them irretrievably broken?

Whatever happened, he had rediscovered his strength and purpose. No matter what happened - should even the galaxy fall to evil and hate - Obi-Wan Kenobi would survive and move forward.

He was, after all, a Jedi.

* * *

"I really hate to leave you at this time," Garen said, slinging his gear over his shoulder. He and Obi-Wan were standing in the hangar bay. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?" 

"Aren't I always?" Obi-Wan managed to smile. "I know how to recover from just about anything by now. Part of me feels that it is unfair to Anakin to just – let it go – but it does neither of us any good to hold onto it, either. I well know the danger of sinking into self-pity and I am bound and determined to avoid that. I am fine, Garen, at least while I'm awake; soon, I expect my sleep to be as untroubled."

Brown eyes studied blue-gray eyes; Garen nodded a bit dubiously. "Letting it go does not mean you stopped caring, my friend. It means you go on with your life, as you well know. No one will fault you for that. If Anakin never forgives you, that is his problem, not yours. You need to forgive yourself, rather than waiting for Anakin to grant it. Accept that you will never be perfect, okay? Even if you used to be known as the 'perfect padawan.' Except to Siri: what was that name she used to call you? 'Bantha brain'?"

Obi-Wan's face blanched and he put out a hand in protest. "Crazy gundark," he whispered and turned anguished eyes on his friend. The memory was too much, combined with recent events and coming from nowhere to blindside a man already hurting.

In turn, Garen's eyes went wide with shock and understanding. "Obi-Wan, I'm sorry. I didn't know – you loved her, didn't you? I understand now….I'm so sorry."

Eyes squeezed tight against the pain, Obi-Wan merely nodded as he regained control. Taking a deep breath and releasing the grief, he added, "since we were padawans. That's why things were strained between us for so long; we had to bury our feelings since we were unable to give them up. I carry her warming stone next to the rock Qui-Gon gave me."

Having regained his composure, Obi-Wan clasped arms with Garen, then impulsively pulled the Jedi close and clapped him on the back, startling both men. Obi-Wan smiled faintly as Garen muttered, "geez, Kenobi, everyone's staring at us," though he had not hesitated to pound Obi-Wan back. He knew perfectly well there was no one there but a mechanic on the other side of the hangar.

"Be careful out there, Garen. I've lost too many friends already."

"Take care of yourself, Obi-Wan. Things will work out. I've got a feeling about it." With a parting clap on the shoulder, Garen swung aboard his ship as Obi-Wan backed off, waiting until the sound of the engine muted and disappeared.

It was time to finish what he had started: meditate and finally release everything he hadn't yet into the Force so his sleep would be restful and uninterrupted. Worrying about Anakin didn't help either one of them. His padawan might take it as just another sign that his master was less than human when it came to emotions, but it was really time to take care of himself.

Anakin was, unfortunately, not his concern at the moment. He was. It was time to let go and heed the lessons of a lifetime.

He needed to heal himself.

* * *

Padme sat on the couch, lightly running her fingers through her husband's hair as he brooded beside her. Now that Anakin had calmed down enough to see Obi-Wan's silence as less a betrayal and more as a misguided attempt to protect his padawan, he was trying desperately to think of a way to make amends to his mentor. 

He had spent a number of hours just thinking and shaking his head. The long night had left its mark in the redness of his eyes and the weary set of his jaw. Obviously, just the thought of going to see his master and talking this out seemed to paralyze him, for he had made no move to return to the Temple or to com Obi-Wan.

Absolutely terrified that he had done the unforgivable, he had confessed that he was afraid that Obi-Wan had already set into motion the process of dismissing him as his padawan. Her suggestion that he try to open his bond with his master had been met with almost frantic fear: Anakin feared being rebuffed, or worse, finding the bond permanently closed on his master's end.

The "HeroWithout Fear" – feared to face his master.

She and Anakin had talked long into the night until he had sent her off to bed with a promise to join her shortly. He never had, for she found him in the same position on the couch as when she left him.

Padme still wasn't sure why Anakin had reacted so strongly to his master's silence. It didn't surprise her that his passionate and unthinking response would be pain and harsh words, but his accusation that Obi-Wan had betrayed him was spurred by something more. Something else had to have happened to inflame his hurt into such anger as he had confessed to her, but Anakin would not speak of his reasons.

She wished it was as simple as kissing him to make it better, but Anakin was wrestling with his own demons as he decided how to approach Obi-Wan – scared stiff that Obi-Wan would cut all ties with him and leave him floundering.

His master was able to ground him in a way that Padme couldn't, just as she could ground him in a way that the Jedi could not.

Her husband was a passionate person, easily aroused to happiness, compassion, or anger, and his master and wife were the ones who understood and calmed the peaks of his emotions as he was not able to do for himself. He would never be the serene and calm Jedi his master was, for she knew he both resented such tranquility as much as he aspired to it: he sought to find a balance between his own volatility and Obi-Wan's composure.

As much as Padme worried about Anakin, she was just as worried about Obi-Wan, for Anakin had finally confessed many of the accusations he had flung at his master, of the blood draining from his master's face and wounded visage. Obi-Wan was not easily wounded, not visibly at least, and to have shown so much pain meant he had been devastated by his padawan's accusations.

Obi-Wan was not the emotionless being that Anakin sometimes thought he was. His passions were deep and quiet ones, there for those who cared to see, but not displayed in such a manner as Anakin recognized. The Jedi guarded his heart close to him, for it was a tender and soft one that needed an outer shield as protection.

Padme would never forget the sight of the Jedi's haunted and grief-stricken eyes burning from a calm façade when she first saw him after his master's death on Naboo, or the tear stains drying unashamedly on his cheeks.

That pain was still in his eyes when he had told the then nine year old Anakin of Qui-Gon's death; it had been there as he stood next to her, silent and composed as the Jedi sent their own into the flames and it had been there as he had stood with Anakin at his side as the Gungans marched into the city at the celebration of her planet's freedom.

When Anakin had told her of his master's abortive attempts to finally talk to him, her heart ached for Obi-Wan as Anakin related what his master had said about trying to retain his humanity during war, and she had nearly broken down when Anakin told her about the padawan who had taken his own life to end his pain and how Obi-Wan had shed tears over him as he was reminded of how easily it could have been his own padawan.

Her husband.

Of how close death had come to claiming Obi-Wan not all that long ago, on another far off planet.

Her dear friend.

Two men, both dear to her in different ways, both lost and in pain, for she knew what one felt so did the other. They were a team, bonded, friends and as such, capable of inflicting deep pain in the other.

Both Jedi needed to talk, to heal, and move forward. She would do what she could. For them both, for she loved them both.


	32. Healing Broken Hearts

Much to his surprise, Obi-Wan Kenobi was, at last, centered: he had found peace.

It had crept up, taking him unawares, though he had been fighting to find it for days – wanting it as much as he resisted it.

Despite his worries for his padawan, despite the unease that still gripped him in odd moments – even his vague feeling that it was not okay to be content under these circumstances when he had no idea what was happening to Anakin – he had found peace of mind.

This state of being was rather mystifying and somewhat disconcerting, yet there was no doubt it was soothing to what had been a greatly troubled mind and so he welcomed it, even if cautiously.

He could now reflect on his mistakes and worries without blades of guilt stabbing his heart. He could anticipate the future without bewilderment and without pain, though uncertainty remained. If he was without sight, he was not without vision, for once he had let go of his lingering hopes and accepted that he was now who he was, no longer who he had been, he had found full and final acceptance of all that had recently befallen him and all that lay ahead.

Life never stagnated. It always changed, flowed as did the currents of the Force, in often mysterious ways, but never static and unchanging. In his attempt to clutch to life, to merely survive, he had held on too tightly to what he had. Survival was long assured; now it was time to live his life and move forward.

Life was far too precious to strangle in a noose of apprehension for what lay ahead and with whom it would be shared.

It had been a stimulating day, invigorating and challenging; one that made Obi-Wan recognize that merely being useful was helping him to heal. Mere days ago he had been all but shattered, struggling to understand what had gone so terribly wrong that his own padawan could have thrown the words he had at him: trying to be the Jedi he knew he was while struggling with the man he also was; the man who thought quick release of his pain showed the same lack of emotion that Anakin had often accused him of.

A lifetime of training as well as temperament had wrestled his heart into agreement with his mind that despair and sorrow were of no help to either party, and that a calm mind and understanding heart were the only tools needed to repair his relationship with his padawan – that and, of course, a willing padawan.

The fix might possibly be a severing of the ties that bound them, allowing them forward progression on the path of their lives. Obi-Wan would trust in the Force, the Council, and Anakin himself to guide them both onto the right path. Doing what was right and necessary was not necessarily pain free, but ultimately correct.

Serenity had finally claimed him and the Jedi master was at peace.

He actually sighed in satisfaction as he sank into his favorite seat in his quarters. It was quiet, for he was alone.

Free to indulge in whatever he desired, and what he most desired at the moment was to just sit and savor the sensation.

He actually relished the silence permeating his quarters, though he was alone for the first time in days with no friends to keep his mind off his fears and worries. He had won that battle with his heart, and no longer needed his friends to keep his mind occupied though he remained deeply grateful for their insistence at staying by his side as long as he had needed them.

It had been a stimulating and busy day so far, too, and the quiet was a bit of a relief after the class Obi-Wan had just taught. He had had a rapt and attentive group of initiates, and it had turned noisy when he had broken them into teams to practice the art of diplomacy. Most had not yet learned to modulate their vocal inflections and volume: much of that would come with the self-control they would be honing over the next few years.

They were a promising group that affirmed Obi-Wan's hope for the future. The Order would be in fine hands when they were the knights and masters.

The thought had even brushed his mind – much to his surprise – that in a few years time, he might wish to choose one of them as his second padawan.

Might. He wasn't thinking that far ahead, but the thought had crossed his mind, much to his astonishment.

He certainly wasn't considering another padawan anytime in the near future – after all Anakin was not yet knighted and after he was, Obi-Wan knew he would need time to rediscover whether he was meant to take another padawan or be content to have a hand in the training of them all.

Once the war was over and his padawan knighted, he thought he would probably accept a teaching position should one be offered. A blind Jedi could still go on missions, but perhaps the Force was redirecting his energies and skills into an alternate path: a peaceful and quieter one. Such a path would be welcomed by both his heart and mind, forced no longer to bear witness to such grief and suffering as he had seen over the long years.

Such a life would be rather welcome after all the chaos of the last year. He had seen and dealt too much pain and destruction for one as committed as he to peaceful resolution of disputes.

The soft chime of his comlink sounded and a rush of hope surged through him – _Anakin_! - only to be followed by disappointment and a brief twinge of the pain and despair he had worked so hard to banish. It was still there, persistent and eternal, this hurt that he sought to banish permanently from the recesses of his subconscious.

"Kenobi here," he answered his comlink, half tempted to bark into it because it was not his padawan. Someday, the thought of his padawan would not bring the pain it currently did.

"Senator Amidala has asked that I patch her through to your comlink." The duty Jedi was on the other end.

Padme! Obi-Wan wanted to sigh - she knew – she must know of the rift between he and Anakin. His first reaction was to beg off, hide in shame, but as always, his innate courtesy commanded him to accept her call. If she reproached him for his behavior, it was no more than he deserved.

Obi-Wan straightened his shoulders and banished his worries. Amend your focus, he reminded himself.

Padme should know something of Anakin, be able to reassure his master that the padawan was not wandering lost and hurt, or if not that, know of his whereabouts. Padme could do what perhaps his master could not; persuade Anakin to return to the Temple and

face his future whatever it may be; to move forward with his life rather than running away from it.

A resurgence of hope flooded him and colored his voice. "Thank you. Put her through, please."

There was a slight delay; Obi-Wan quashed the urge to tap his fingers. _Breathe, Kenobi, breathe_, he reminded himself while awaiting the small click to indicate an open line. A slight fear that Padme's voice would hold reproof and a cool aloofness tightened his throat so that all he could manage for the moment was a brief acknowledgement.

"Senator."

"Oh, so formal, Obi-Wan," she laughed lightly, and Obi-Wan relaxed a bit. Padme might not be happy with him, but she was, as always, kind.

"Dear friend, how are you? I haven't had a chance to see you since your return. I have been so worried about you and wanted to see you so badly, but they weren't allowing you to have visitors. I have been half sick with worry since I first heard, though part of me knows you're indestructible. How are you feeling, Obi-Wan?" She would not tell him how she had suffered through the uncertainty of his first days in the Med Center, pretending her knowledge came some time later when his very survival was less in doubt.

"I am doing quite well," he replied, a hint of a smile on his lips as he heard the solicitude and affection in her soft voice. "You've, ah, heard – have you been in touch with Anakin?"

"That you were blind? He has told me, yes," she acknowledged simply. "I'm so sorry, Obi-Wan." There was deep concern in her voice, sympathy even, but thankfully, no pity. She knew him well enough to know he wouldn't welcome it. He wasn't sure just how much she knew.

"Don't be," he reassured her. "I will be fine. I have even moved beyond being reconciled to it to accepting it; I am learning now what I am capable of. They say there is still a chance my eyesight may come back, although a very slim one at this time."

"As you are the Jedi known to beat any odds, I'd take that bet," Padme laughed. "No, Anakin didn't say, I don't think he knew."

Padme had sounded cautious; she did know something had gone awry between the two Jedi. Anakin had not known the healer's all but final diagnosis; he had been too upset at finding out that his master had not revealed this additional damage to listen to the healer's verdict.

"No, I doubt it." His tone was suddenly dry, but also worried. "We haven't – spoken in several days. He was rather upset with me, though Force knows I deserved it."

Anakin would not know. Since he had stormed off, Obi-Wan had not seen his padawan. No one at the Temple had, and it had been nearly a week since he and his master had had words. Obi-Wan was now even more worried about him.

Worry was, at least, less of an issue than brooding, and Obi-Wan cheered up just a bit. He had always worried, though he preferred to think of it as cautiously assessing a situation for potential pitfalls before committing to a course of action. Both his master and padawan had scoffed at that. To them it was worrying, plain and simple.

Master Yoda had never warned him that worry was of the dark side, so he never let himself _worry_ about worrying.

"Oh, Obi-Wan, I'm sure he'll contact you once he calms down, if you just give him –."

He cut in, overriding her reassurances. "Padme, when did you last see him?" When she hesitated, he asked again, softly insistent.

"I'm sorry, but Padme, he's been gone for several days now and I am quite worried about him. It's not like him to just take off, and he won't answer when I comm him. He – I, it's that bad between us, Padme. He really needs to return to the Temple, even if he won't – won't see me. Would you tell him that when you see him again?"

"Of course I will," she reassured him. "Oh, I almost forgot. If you're feeling up to it, I really would like to see you – I need to make sure you're okay. Would you please come over for drinks later? I'll send a ship to pick you up."

She thought she understood his hesitation in replying. "Obi-Wan, I know you're now allowed to! That duty Jedi told me! You really should get out of that stuffy Temple for a while. Especially if you're sitting around worrying about that padawan of yours."

She had hoped to tease a chuckle from him at that; there was but a sad sigh at her words, yet she knew as if she could see his face that he yearned to agree. Still, he wavered as if looking for an excuse to beg off.

"Obi-Wan, I won't take 'no' for an answer," she warned. She smiled as she heard his soft sigh of agreement, though he said he'd have a Temple ship bring him over.

* * *

"He's really worried about you, Anakin," Padme said, turning to face her husband.

"I can't face him," Anakin moaned. "Not after what I did to him. Maybe I should go to the Temple while he's here and talk to the Council – oh, Force, I don't want to face them, either. They won't be very understanding with me."

"You weren't very understanding with your master, either," Padme pointed out. "Yet you both are suffering – do you want to keep feeling this miserable or do you want to get this resolved?"

Anakin merely buried his head in his hands and groaned. Padme came over and sat by him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling his head to her shoulders.

"Ani, at least you know now that you didn't hurt him enough to put him into the healer's hands. That, perhaps, he might never forgive you for." She hoped to tease a grin or chuckle from her husband, but he merely sighed.

"Some consolation. I hurt him, just not enough to send him upstairs," he replied gloomily. "I can't face him, Padme. I can't."

"Yes, you can." Anakin shook his head. "Anakin, you're scared, but you have to face your fears."

"Yes, I am scared," Anakin admitted. "I can face my fears, I just can't face Obi-Wan. Not yet. Talk to him, please, let him know how sorry I am. I won't face him, Padme, not yet. Not until you can reassure me that he's willing to forgive me rather than kill me."

Padme would have laughed, but Anakin's fear was palpable. "My big, strong, brave Jedi," she said softly. "I won't ask for his forgiveness for you. I will find out just how hurt and upset with you he is, but you will have to ask him for forgiveness yourself when you can bring yourself to face him. I have asked Obi-Wan here as my friend who I am very anxious to see, not as your master."

* * *

The whir of servomotors greeted the Jedi master as he arrived. Padme's golden protocol droid was there to greet him; he knew it was Threepio even before hearing the fussy and precise tones, delivered much the same as a certain stuffy Jedi master who had long ago taught a class of initiates the fine art of etiquette.

Beside him stood Padme Amidala, Senator from Naboo, and an old acquaintance of many years standing. She had been kind and understanding, even while busy freeing her people from occupation, to a grieving Jedi padawan who had lost his master.

Reunited with the then-Senator months back, the acquaintanceship had blossomed into friendship. Padme was not just one politician Obi-Wan tolerated, but respected, and one of his few friends outside the Order he was comfortable enough to be on a first name basis with.

"Master Kenobi, oh do come in, come in," Threepio greeted the Jedi. Padme took his free hand and offered him a quick kiss on one cheek as he disembarked from the Temple ship onto her outdoor veranda as Threepio chattered on, "I have your favorite drink on the table. I am sure you remember where that would be."

A cascade of disapproving tootles and beeps followed this comment. "I was merely being polite, Artoo," Threepio said with dignity. "I know Master Kenobi knows where everything is. He is a Jedi Master, but he was quite damaged, you know."

With a slight shake of his head at the droids comments, and an equally slight blush at Padme's manner of greeting, the Jedi allowed her to lead him up the few steps to the seating area.

"Obi-Wan, you have no idea how relieved I am to see you," Padme said warmly. "Anakin told me you had been on forced bed rest. He said you had so many things hooked up to you once that he was tempted to tinker with you out of habit as if you were a droid."

Obi-Wan found himself laughing at the thought as some of the tension lifted from him. He hadn't felt like laughing, or even smiling, since Anakin had confronted him. He could sense Padme's pleasure at seeing him, as well as her shock at his appearance. He knew he was still somewhat wasted looking; his clothes hung loose, too loose on his frame and walking required caution or a cane. Away from the Temple for the first time, he had been obliged to take a cane with him, though he was determined to avoid its use.

"Do I look that bad?" he said ruefully, his hand coming up to brush his chin absently.

Padme was too honest to answer with a lie; too much of a politician to be totally truthful. "I've seen you look better," she admitted.

A critical eye ran over her friend, noting the shadows still underlying his eyes, the hesitant bloom of his usual grin. The Jedi master had not quite displayed his usual athletic grace as he moved; a slight limp betrayed his physical weakness and his movements were somewhat hesitant rather than brisk and efficient.

Yet while outwardly he still displayed signs of his physical injuries – and Padme had to admit, lingering signs of his internal wounds from his padawan's words – his inner being seemed its usual determined and serene self. Obi-Wan had managed to take his pain and twist it away from despair and brooding into healing.

Her husband now – poor Anakin was wallowing in fear and self-doubt; afraid to approach his master and afraid not to. She could not help him recover from that, for in a way she was responsible for it, for she had made Anakin see how wrong he had been to turn on his mentor with the words he had – for reacting instead of listening.

Obi-Wan, too, had been wrong; but his error was born of a misguided attempt to protect his padawan; rather than as a conscious act of deception meant to inflict pain.

Padme sat forward and reached a hand to the Jedi's arm, letting it rest on it lightly. "Really, Obi-Wan, how are you doing?"

"I'm still healing, but luckily I can recuperate without the Healers fussing around me," he grinned suddenly, and Padme chuckled in sympathy. She knew how much he hated being fussed over, especially by healers.

"My leg," he looked down involuntarily, "it's a bit stiff, still, and I don't have much stamina yet. I'm afraid I'm not of much use right now."

"You're always of use, my friend," Padme said gently. "And your eyes?"

Out of habit, Obi-Wan rubbed his face and leaned forward, resting his chin on one open palm, his elbow resting on one knee. "There is little hope at this time, though no one yet knows. Sometimes, I think I see the barest glimmer of gray, and then, it's gone. I don't know if I'm starting to regain my vision, or just seeing things. Hope does have a way of making one imagine all sorts of things."

"It must be hard on you, dealing with all this," she said sympathetically.

_Hard? _Obi-Wan sighed. It hadn't been easy, not at all, but a Jedi did what one must. Face what one needed to, do his best to accept it and move on. Focus, it was all in one's focus. Facing the loss of his eyesight had been perhaps easier than facing the loss of his padawan.

Padme would only be distressed to know of his struggles, now largely behind him. She had a kind heart, and there was no need to speak of them – had he still been struggling it would have been a relief to unburden himself to such an understanding friend, but he was beyond needing another's support. Time and the Force had indeed brought him to where he needed to be.

He pulled himself from his thoughts with a little shake of his head.

"It hasn't been easy, but - I do what I must," he said quietly. In the end, that was all it came down to. It was what and who he was, as well. Did the Jedi bury their dead he could well imagine his stone would read: "He Always Did What He Must," and Anakin would probably chisel in, "Never More and Never Less." It wasn't always what he wanted to do, or even thought he should do, but in the end, it was what duty required of him, and he could give no less than full devotion to his duty.

Padme's reaction startled him, and he almost flinched at her sudden movement.

"Stop that! Stop throwing platitudes around," Padme cried, getting to her feet. "I'm your friend, Obi-Wan. Be honest with me." As soon as the words left her mouth, she covered her mouth in dismay. It was the worst thing she could have said.

He bowed his head, absorbing her outburst without outward expression, but when the Jedi raised his head, his eyes showed his distress.

Padme sank back onto the sofa, burning bright red with mortification. Obi-Wan's hands had also betrayed his agitation; his fingers were now clenched on his legs.

"Oh, Obi-Wan, I'm so sorry, I'm as bad as Anakin – getting upset with you for dealing with this as you think best. Forgive me, my dear friend."

"There's nothing to forgive, Padme." His taut expression relaxed a bit, though his voice shook slightly. "As you said, you're a friend. You have a right to get upset with me if I am behaving badly. I have not dealt well with this at all – I've driven Anakin away. He had every right to reproach me, but I thought I was doing the right thing at the time. He had been so happy…I didn't want to spoil it…instead of admitting I needed help I tried to be strong…I made so many mistakes, Padme…and Anakin is paying for them…."

At the depth of pain in his eyes, Padme wanted to pull him into a hug, but thought that one didn't just hug a Jedi. Even if that Jedi was a close friend, and even if that Jedi needed nothing more than that hug. She settled for touching his cheek with a couple of fingers. Obi-Wan drew in a soft shuddering breath and sat hunched in his seat, tense and unhappy.

_He's really upset_, she realized with a pang. _I've hurt him, too. He doesn't deserve all this hurt. Such a dear, kind man, and we do nothing but hurt him._

"Master." The voice was soft and hesitant, and came from the far side of the room.

"Anakin." The Jedi's head shot up; he remained perfectly still but his unseeing eyes remained aimed at the floor.

Every muscle in his body rigid, Obi-Wan listened as footsteps crossed the floor, heard a light thud as his padawan dropped to his knees by his side, felt his hands taken within the grasp of his padawan's own. Anakin's hands were shaking, and so, too, he found, were his.

"I'm sorry, Master. I had no right to say what I did. I was angry, and I said things I shouldn't have. I didn't stop to think what you were going through; I thought only of myself. I even…," he gulped, "I _hurt_ you, Master, I know how much it hurt when I tried to break the bond. How could I have done that to you, when you were only trying to spare me? Forgive me, Master?"

A hesitant and soft probe quested through the bond, apologetic and skittish as if fearing a harsh rejection, encountering instead only relief and thankfulness. _Forgive me, Master_, and the Force tendril was accepted and returned with a hopeful, _Forgive me, Padawan?_

Obi-Wan reached out a hand and gently touched his padawan's cheek. "There is nothing to forgive, Anakin." He lightly stroked a hand through the young man's hair before letting his hand fall back into his lap.

To say the Jedi master was stunned would be an understatement; he had not sensed Anakin's shielded presence and scarcely knew how to react. Beside him, Padme sat, totally surprised by Anakin's sudden appearance and profoundly grateful for it.

"Yes, there is," Anakin affirmed with a soft exhalation of breath. "I need you to forgive me, Master. I hurt you, and I'm sorry - I'm sorry, so very sorry for what I said." His breath caught on the last word as he bit back a sob.

His lips quirking in a half-smile, eyes suspiciously bright and moist, Obi-Wan said softly, "If you need to hear the words, I forgive you, Padawan. Will you forgive me?"

"If you need me to say it, I do," Anakin said joyfully. Obi-Wan reached out and grabbed his padawan by both shoulders and smiled at him. Anakin reached a shaky hand to his master's temple and rubbed a thumb over the spot that the Jedi master was wont to rub in absent minded moments.

"Your poor mind, Master," he murmured, and didn't miss Obi-Wan's almost concealed flinch at the reminder. He had been so desperate to relieve the Jedi's pain on another planet, at another time, and yet he had caused such pain, deliberately and without regard for the consequences.

Anakin knew he sounded as miserable as he felt. "You opened yourself up to such undeserved pain; how could I have doubted you had the best of intentions, and then to inflict such pain on you when you had barely been free of pain for so long. Once I could think, all I could see when I thought of you was you lying unconscious in the healers ward, and knowing it was - because of me."

His worried blue eyes hadn't failed to notice the shadowy circles faintly rimming Obi-Wan's eyes and that the nice fullness that had begun to pad his master's face had receded into thinness and yet Anakin could not help but see that despite the physical strides backwards Obi-Wan was showing, his inner being shone brighter and calmer than ever.

Where it counted, Obi-Wan had healed while Anakin fretted. The knowledge brought relief, not annoyance.

Gentle love and forgiveness flowed from the Jedi, and Anakin felt humbled. His master's compassion and emotion showed only in the crinkles around his eyes and the hint of his gentle smile: they fairly shouted through the Force yet were nearly invisible to the eye.

Anakin glanced at Padme and was startled to see an understanding smile on her face – and he understood that she was able to see what Anakin felt. Truly, he had been blind to much of his master's being, for he had not known where to look or how to see.

Dashing a hand across his eyes, Anakin enfolded one of Obi-Wan's hands within his and lightly stroked it, smiling as it evoked memories of doing the same to a pain-filled Obi-Wan awakening from a drug-induced coma. A hint of a gentle smile touched the Jedi's face, and Anakin knew his master was remembering; indeed, Obi-Wan's fingers were gently squeezing back. Lost in the moment, they both started as Padme spoke up.

"Am I forgiven for setting you up, Obi-Wan? Anakin was feeling just awful and absolutely terrified you'd never forgive him. I insisted he come over when you agreed to visit."

For a while she had been afraid that Anakin was too ashamed to show himself; if he had remained hidden, she knew he at least he would have learned of his master's readiness to forgive him and accept his padawan back. His compassion and recognition of the Jedi's pain-filled confession of his failings had spurred Anakin to reveal himself at last, to try to assuage his master's pain and beg forgiveness.

The wide smile spoke for itself. Padme had forgotten how that smile lighted up rooms; Obi-Wan rarely unleashed it, usually grinning instead.

"Why not, since we're all forgiving each other anyway?" he said easily, and for the first time Padme was aware that both men were free of the tension that had surrounded each of them.

Padme reached out and brushed a sparkling tear off of one of Obi-Wan's eyes, and the Jedi caught her hand with his free hand and squeezed it lightly, then gave her a spontaneous hug. He quickly released it, blushing furiously. He had to clear his throat before speaking.

"Did Anakin tell you he refused to let me die?" he said fondly, resting a hand on his padawan's shoulder. "He flat out refused to let me go, though at times I wasn't sure I wanted to keep fighting through all the pain. But he wouldn't let me give up."

"Me? I didn't do anything," Anakin protested, lifting his head from his master's knee where it now rested.

"As I told you, you called me back, made me keep fighting. You were there, fighting for me and with me, encouraging me to struggle through all the pain and all but demanding I not give up. You made go through, well, a lot of pain and suffering that I might otherwise have avoided." His smile belied his words. "Thank you, Padawan. You have a large heart. No wonder I'm so fond of you."

"Just fond?" Anakin grinned. "Well, I love you, Master."

"I know," Obi-Wan whispered, touched. He could feel it, wrapping around him like a warm hug in his heart. The last dregs of his pain flowed away from him. For the first time in a number of days, his eyes showed he was truly and completely at peace.

Beneath his breath, he added, "I love you, too." From the burst of warmth and happiness in the bond, he knew Anakin's heart heard the words, even if his ears missed it.


	33. Epilogue

"Anakin!"

The young man struggled awake. "Wha…what?" he asked, then realized Obi-Wan was calling his name. Alarmed, he jumped out of bed and ran to Obi-Wan's room, fearful that a wound had become infected and his master's recovery delayed, though the Jedi had been released from all therapy and medical checkups.

Stopping in the doorway, his feet chilled against the floor, he saw Obi-Wan looking away from him. As he skidded to a stop, the Jedi swung his head towards him with a big smile.

"Morning, Padawan," he greeted him, much too cheerily for Anakin's liking.

"You called, Master?" he asked warily, suspicious.

"Yes, I did. It's much too beautiful a day to lag in bed, isn't it? Just look at it…it's beautiful." He returned his gaze to the window.

"It's raining," he snapped, growling in disbelief. "You woke me up to see…" his eyes widened with sudden joy. "You wanted me to see what you see – your eyesight has come back. Master, you can see!"

"Yes, I believe so." He was so focused on what his eyes saw, that he seemed almost unaware of Anakin's words or his own response. He suddenly returned to the moment and glanced at Anakin with a half smile as an old and almost forgotten memory surfaced.

"Remember when you were young and would jump in bed next to me when it rained because seeing so much water frightened you? Scared me half to death the first time you did that," Obi-Wan reminisced, beckoning Anakin over to join him. With a whoop, Anakin raced over and settled next to Obi-Wan, laying his head next to the Jedi's and smiling with his own memories. His master smiled and patted his hand.

"Come here, Master," Anakin said as he shifted Obi-Wan so that his head rested against Anakin's shoulder. "I'll hold you this time."

"Really, Anakin, neither of us is a child," Obi-Wan protested quietly, a smile playing around his lips as he settled back, making no move to resist. Anakin just grinned and ignored him as they lay quietly looking out the window at the new day.

Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan's face. The smile and contentment he saw there would sustain him for a long time, through all the battles and hard times sure to be ahead. A memory he would hold onto for all time.

He laid a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and the Jedi's hand came up to rest over it. Their friendship remained strong, despite all. They would always have this to sustain them, no matter what the future held.

Friends.

Forever.


End file.
